


Turnabout Redemption

by gen



Category: Shawshank Redemption - All Media Types, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Canonical Character Death, Complete, Friends to Lovers, Gyakuten Saiban 5 | Dual Destinies Spoilers, I'm Sorry, If you haven't seen the movie/read the book you don't have to, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prison AU, Shawshank redemption au, Slow Build, There are 0 women in this I'm sorry, follows shawshank redemption plot v closely, von Karma is an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:15:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 56,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3925966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gen/pseuds/gen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being wrongly convicted of the murder of Gregory Edgeworth, Miles Edgeworth is given a life sentence at the Maine state penitentiary, Shawshank.  There, he meets the man who can get just about anything: Phoenix "Nick" Wright.  As the years pass, Nick and Edgeworth manage to find just about everything in one another: trust, friendship, and possibly even hope.<br/>Shawshank Redemption AU.  Tags will be added as they come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Guilty Verdict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all began with a guilty verdict.

“Mister Edgeworth, I want you to describe for the court, in full, what took place on the afternoon of December 28, 1941,” the judge’s voice would have echoed off of the courtroom walls if there hadn’t been as many people sitting in the gallery. Miles Edgeworth felt smaller than he had in years as he stood on the witness stand, gathering his thoughts to recount what had happened three years before. His throat felt constricted in the cravat tied around his neck, and it took everything in his power not to reach up and loosen it. Stay calm, he told himself. He took a deep breath in through his nose and held it. The air in the courtroom smelled the same as it had three years ago, although this time he was grateful that it was there at all.

The memories were still fresh. He had been a sophomore in law school on break for the holiday when his father had asked if he wanted to come watch a trial. Of course Miles had accepted. It had been far too long since he’d last attended one of his father’s trials, so he’d gathered his textbooks and followed his father into their car and attended the court day. For his life, he could not remember the name of the man whom his father was defending, nor could he remember the details of the case. All he remembered was the face of the prosecutor standing across from his father, and how it had contorted into a rage-filled growl when the judge announced that the prosecution would be awarded a penalty for faulty evidence. He remembered his father standing tall at the end of the trial even as the ‘guilty’ verdict was handed down, refusing to show any emotion. 

After the trial, he had met his father outside the courtroom and they had walked to the elevator only to find a guard already waiting, the ‘down’ light illuminated. He and his father waited quietly and entered the elevator with the guard when it arrived.

It was at this point in the memory that things got fuzzy.

He remembered the earthquake, and how it had shook the elevator so horribly that all three of the men had lost their balance. He remembered the lights going out, and the look on his father’s face before everything went dark (he had been looking right at Miles, the picture of calm and collected even at a time like that, his gray eyes betraying his fear behind spectacles). If he strained his ears, he could hear his father’s reassurance that the electricity would be back soon, and that everything would be fine. He remembered the air turning thin, the guard growing restless, and how the older men had started arguing. The guard had dropped something heavy, and with the echo of a crazed ‘You’re breathing all of my air!’ he remembered picking up a pistol and throwing it in the direction of the struggle. Before everything went completely black, he remembered a gunshot ringing throughout the elevator.

When he woke up, he had been in a hospital. The nurse taking care of him had explained that his father had been killed by a single gunshot to the heart, and that the man who had shot him was currently undergoing trial, that it was the security guard whose name was Yanni Yogi. Even then, Miles hadn’t believed it.

Three years later, Yanni Yogi’s case had been dredged back up, the man had pleaded temporary insanity, and Miles Edgeworth had been summoned under the suspicion of patricide. As his attorney listened to the testimony, Edgeworth noted that the hazel eyes never met his own. Not even his attorney believed that he was innocent, he realized with a taste of bitterness.

“Your Honor,” the prosecution piped up on the other side of the room and miles turned his head to see a short, scrawny man standing behind the bench. He looked nothing like the prosecutor that had been in court three years ago. No, this man had a high-pitched voice and started to sweat when someone would say his name a bit too loudly. “The prosecution would like to propose this scenario: when a twenty-year-old Miles Edgeworth was stuck in the elevator with his father and Yanni Yogi, he panicked when the older men started to fight. In his panic, he picked up Yogi’s gun with every intention of protecting his father. Instead,” the attorney turned back to the witness stand with a sick grin on his face, “he shot his father, in cold blood, simply because he could not tell which was which.”

It felt as though Miles had been punched in the gut. His fingernails dug into the heel of his palm. The air around him turned thin. Yes, he supposed that he always figured that it was the most logical line of thought, but the self-defense portion of his brain had always ruled it out. Now that he was facing it head-on, he knew that there was absolutely no evidence to refute the claim. 

“Mr. Payne, what are you saying?” The judge looked baffled, looking quite small sitting behind the giant bench. 

“I am saying, Your Honor, that after Mr. Edgeworth killed his father, he sat idly by and let Yanni Yogi be convicted of a murder he did not commit, and has lived among us, a murderer, for three long years. Isn’t that right, Mr. Edgeworth?”

He knew his hands were on the witness stand, and that without them, he would most likely be on the floor. Miles barely heard Winston Payne’s accusation, the calm he’d forced upon himself for the past three years starting to crumble. 

“I will take your silence as a confession, Mr. Edgeworth,” the judge rumbled from where he sat. He shook his head solemnly. “It makes my blood chill, thinking that you would let an innocent man blame himself for a murder he didn’t commit for all this time. Does the defense have any objections?”

“The defense rests, Your Honor,” the lawyer had no remorse in his voice. He simply gathered his papers, giving the man on the witness stand a rueful glance. Maybe one day the state would stop pulling defense attorneys away from their already-busy schedules to defend guilty parties.

“Then the court hereby finds Miles Edgeworth guilty of murder in the second degree. You will serve a life sentence in the state penitentiary, and, because, Mr. Edgeworth, you have destroyed the life and integrity of Yanni Yogi, you will have no chance of parole.” The gavel hit to the desk shook Miles to the core. He felt like the floor had been dropped from under his feet.

“Court is adjourned.”


	2. Slim Pickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles arrives at Shawshank, and unknowingly becomes part of a bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a better look at what the rest of the chapters are going to look like. If you've read the book or seen the movie, there are going to be a lot of similarities between the two, but I do plan on there being a few differences. Feel free to hit me up on tumblr or here if there are any errors, I wanted to get this one up ASAP so it's not just the one chapter thing anymore.

As Phoenix Wright was ushered into the parole office at the southern end of the state penitentiary, he noted that this was the only room on the entire property that held flowers, sans the warden’s office, maybe, but he had never been called in to see the warden.He liked to think, at least, that this was the only room in which they kept flowers.They made the room look like it was in a different universe.The guards had made sure that he was extra clean today, and his blue and white striped garb felt less like an eyesore and more like a suit of armor.The handcuffs keeping his wrists bound together felt tighter than usual, but he really didn’t complain.Five years in the pen and he was used to them.A chair sat in front of the four-person desk on the other side of the room.He was guided to the chair and then sat down, facing two men and two women whom he had never met previously.   

“It says here that you’ve served five years of a life sentence,” one of the men spoke first.Phoenix was just happy that they were getting right to the point instead of beating around the bush for half an hour. “Is that true, Mr. Wright?”

“Yes,” Phoenix nodded.He had never had his parole up for question before, and he was itching for approval.

“And do you feel as though you have been rehabilitated?” One of the women asked, her pen hovering above paper. Phoenix was quick to nod again.

“Oh, yes,” he sat forward a little, readjusting his feet under the chair. “I’ve thought long and hard about what I did, and I’m very sorry.” He had spent a few nights consistently reciting the words in his mirror, but that wasn’t what they needed to know. “I’m a changed man, that’s the honest truth.” He was met with four stares, and he felt a knot in his gut.He sounded ridiculous even to his own ears. 

He really wasn’t surprised when he was told that his parole appeal had been rejected.  

As soon as he was back in the yard, the guard unlocked his handcuffs and nudged him away from the door.He rubbed his wrist and pulled his sleeves back down in the February chill.On his way to the usual spot where his group met, another man came up next to him. 

“Hey Nick!How’d it go?” The man grinned and Phoenix looked to see his best friend, Larry Butz, next to him.The uniform he was wearing made him look bigger than he really was, and Phoenix grinned to himself. 

“Rejected, like I figured,” he replied as Larry fell into step with him.

“Hey, congrats,” Larry beamed. “Guess you’ll just have to stick around!”

“I guess,” Phoenix grinned and waved as the rest of his friends noticed their approach.They usually picked different places to meet up, and today it was outside the shower block.Something that probably shouldn’t have existed felt a pang of relief at the sight of his friends and the knowledge that he wouldn’t have to leave them, against the desire to get out of prison.

“Hey man, looks like you’ll be around longer,” Dick Gumshoe straightened from where he sat on the ground and shot him a grin. “Rejected?”

“You bet,” Phoenix took his place standing against the wall, where Diego Armando stood in one of the crevices of the building. The other man clapped him on the shoulder, jostling him enough to make him stumble. 

“I’m up for rejection next week, don’t sweat it,” the older man grinned.At first, Phoenix and Diego hadn’t really gotten along, but outside of the small group, Phoenix didn’t have any friends.As awkward as their relationship was, he was grateful for it nonetheless.The brunette laughed, running a hand through his spiked hair. 

“You could have told me how awkward it is in there, I thought I was going to piss myself,” Phoenix laughed.On the ground, Apollo, Klavier, and Gumshoe were playing a round of poker, and he watched with a bored expression.

“You get used to it.It only happens every once in a while,” Simon Blackquill piped up, approaching the group with hands in his pockets.He nodded to Diego, and then to Phoenix, before joining their line against the wall.Larry, who had run off to schmooze with some other of his buddies, was jogging back to them.

“Hey guys!” He called, waving an arm at the drive up to the penitentiary. “There’s a new shipment of fish coming in!” 

Immediately the six men were either on their feet or straining their next to watch as the bell started to ring and a stark-white bus rolled up to the front gate.The rest of the inmates had the same idea, most of them running as far as the fence would allow and chanting one sort of taunt or another.Phoenix grinned and reached for the notebook he kept at the small of his back, pulling it out from the elastic and producing a pencil out of his breast pocket. 

“Anyone want to place their bets?”

“Yeah, what are we betting?” Apollo asked, pushing his way in front of Gumshoe so he could see. 

“Anything, gum, sipping whiskey, better’s choice,” Phoenix laughed as the short man had to jump again to have a better view, and Klavier grinned, crouching down so Apollo could jump on his back.

“Thanks,” Apollo muttered, propping his arm on the other man’s shoulder so he could sit straight and keep some sort of dignity.  

On the other side of the fence, the bus rolled to a stop and a line of men were already filing off, led by Shi-Long Lang, who was gruffly pulling the first in line away from the vehicle.The man at the mercy of the chief guard shook, his bald head bright with sweat.Nick felt no jealousy toward the man; anyone under Lang’s line of perpetual grumpiness was a poor soul in his opinion.As soon as Baldy was able to walk by himself, the rest of the men filed out in an orderly fashion.Phoenix surveyed the pickens, keeping an eye on the doorway.Every time there was a new bunch of fish, he made it a habit to bet on the last one off the bus, but he was feeling like doing something different today.  

The first time that Phoenix Wright set eyes on Miles Edgeworth, he didn’t think much of the man.To be completely honest, the man looked a bit too stuffy for a prison—he was clad in a maroon suit with a fancy vest buttoned underneath, his dark gray hair fallen over his face.He wore no tie, but there was a bit of ruffle sticking out of his back pocket.No, Phoenix didn’t even think twice about him.  He was too focused on the men trudging in front of him, trying to size them up and decide which would be the first to crack on their first night in the stir.  

“Put my money down for the short one,” Diego said behind him, who was counting new inmates. “Eighth from the front.” 

“Diego on the short stack, right,” Phoenix grinned. “What’s your bet?”

“Three cigarettes,” he leaned back against the building they were gathered around again, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah, bullshit,” Larry grinned next to Phoenix. “Nick, put me down for ten cigarettes on toupee-scalp in front.”

“Ten?Do you even have that much?” the brunette joked but kept writing. “My records say that you still owe Dick a pack from movie night three weeks ago.”

“Whatever, I totally paid him off, besides, put it on my tab,” Larry waved him off. “You got any ideas, Nick?” Phoenix paused, making sure to carefully look at each and every one of the new fish.

“Put me down for a pack on fussy britches in the back,” he jotted it down as three others started laughing. “What?Who wants to prove me wrong?”

“I’m in on that,” Simon piped up, his hand ducking into the cardigan draped over his shoulders.The rest of the guys placed their respective bets as the new fish disappeared into the shower block.The PA system squeaked to life above their heads and they turned to each other.  

“All prisoners, return to your cell blocks for evening count.” The voice sounded about as robotic as they came, and Phoenix, Larry, Diego, Simon, Gumshoe, Apollo, and Klavier made their way back to their respective cells without so much as a word about meeting up later.They had known and trusted each other long enough to know that the next time that they were allowed out of their cells, they would find each other.Phoenix glanced to the newcomers again just in time to see the maroon suit disappear behind a heavy metal door before he was swept back toward his own cell.

 

* * *

 

There were fifteen others besides himself, Miles noted.Their arrival at the penitentiary seemed as though it was a welcomed change.He could only imagine the monotony that must come with prison life, and, if he was being honest, it was one of the things he was least looking forward to.  

“Turn to your right,” a harsh voice came from behind them and the entire row turned at once.It was the same guard that had been there and directed them into the block in which they were currently standing.He wore a dark blue police uniform and stood at-ease.If Miles squinted he would be able to read the name tag onthe man’s lapel.Currently the officer wore a toothy grin, and it looked like a sneer, Miles noted.  Intimidating, that’s the word Miles was looking for. “Stand tall for the warden,” he ordered, removing the hat from atop his head and holding it behind his back, which revealed sandy hair pushed back into two spikes on either side of his head.  Miles’ appraisal of the man was cut short at the clacking of heels—surely the warden wasn’t female—and he, like every other in line, turned to see a man standing in the doorway through which they had just entered.  Edgeworth felt his blood turn cold as he took in the man’s face.  

The warden had a pallid complexion that made him look almost like a ghost, with hair so white on top of his head that it looked like it almost had a blue tinge.His high cheekbones were the same as he remembered them, as well as his sunken in cheeks.He looked almost starved in the face, and if not for his gaunt shoulders, Miles was positive that a strong breeze would blow him over.The ornate suit he wore was even similar to how he had dressed three years prior.Finally, Miles allowed himself to look into the man’s eyes, the beady grey irises watching the newcomers like a hawk.Had this been the first time Miles laid eyes on the man, he was positive that he would be more shaken than he was, however, all he felt was his blood run cold at the sight of this man.  

 

“My name is von Karma,” the former prosecutor informed them, standing stock-straight.He looked down his pointed nose at them. “I believe in two things here at this establishment: perfection and the law.” He took his hands out from behind his back to reveal a large book simply titled ‘COMMON LAW’. “You will be both perfect and lawful here.Anything less will be met with strict discipline.Captain Lang here,” he gestured to the man with spikes in his hair, “will make sure that you will do as you’re told.If you follow these guidelines, I am sure we shall have no problems.Are there any questions for me?” von Karma’s eyes finally landed on Miles, and if the younger man had not been watching so closely, he would have missed how the older’s lips twitched up in a grin.After a second, however, it was gone, and von Karma looked just as stoic as before.“None?Good.” His arms disappeared behind his back once again and he turned on his heel, facing the door. “Captain Lang, prepare them and lock them away.” He turned back to the line, his lips pulling into a sinister grin. “Welcome to prison.” HIs heels clicked and echoed against the cement walls on his way out.

“All right, you heard the man,” Lang’s voice bellowed out. “Unhook ‘em and get them prepped.”

Following the shuffle of feet, Miles was ushered into a washing block.Like the men before him, he was ordered to strip out of his clothes.He handed the folded suit to the guard next to him as goosebumps started to rise where his cravat was missing.  

“Everything,” the guard barked, and Miles felt his cheeks flush a deep red.Letting his boxers fall to the floor, the guard nodded to a shower stall. 

“Step to the back to the stall, face the wall,” Lang sounded absolutely bored.As soon as Edgeworth was facing away, a cold blast of water was sprayed against his backside.He visibly shivered, but made sure to keep facing away from the hose. _Stay calm_ , he chanted to himself, shuddering violently again when the water disappeared. “Turn around,” Lang’s voice came from behind him and he complied.  He barely had time to close his eyes before the water returned, this time dousing his front.  Once the water was gone, he heard Lang’s voice ordering him to the front of the stall. “Close your eyes.” He barely had time to comply before he felt a dusting on his front. “Turn around,” Lang repeated and the same covered his back.  The powder must have been akin to baby powder, because the next draft that came through the stall hit dry skin. “Go to your left, you’ll receive your clothes and law book.”  As soon as he was out of the stall, Lang was onto the next man, ordering him to go through the same routine that Miles had just gone through.  He stopped as if to change into his uniform only to feel a swift smack to his rear end. 

 _“Get a move on,_ ” the guard who had just slapped him sneered. “We don’t have the time to wait for you ladies to get dressed.”

As Edgeworth straightened into a standing position, he pursed his lips together. _At least it can’t get worse,_ he thought to himself.  

 

* * *

 

It was the same as any other time that new fish came into the prison, Phoenix noted.He’d been in prison for five years, and every time that there was a new batch of prisoners sent in, Lang would march them in naked as a fresh baby. They would march in from the stretch of showers and the captain would tell them which way to turn, and then they would find their cells about as easily as they could walk.Every time, they would walk in looking about as stable as a newborn deer, and every time someone would start crying.Phoenix and the crew always placed bets on which one would crack first. _It’s as good as anything to bet on,_ he mused as the newbies started filing in.He found his horse soon enough; the man did stick out from the rest of the crew even without clothes.Phoenix figured it was the way he held himself, and how his cheeks were tinted a deep shade of red.He could remember that embarrassment well.At least when the gray-haired man walked by he looked a bit less fussy than he had in his ridiculous suit and ruffles.Moving to the front of his cell to see better, Phoenix watched the man disappear into his own cell.If he was lucky at all, the silver fox would make him ten cigarettes richer, otherwise he would owe Simon, Diego, Gumshoe, Apollo, _and_ Larry two smokes each.He would have been fine with the deal if it didn’t mean that he would owe Larry.Phoenix loved the man to death, but he was most certainly a handful.  

“All right, lights out!” Lang bellowed, and the telltale click of the overhead lights shutting off started ringing throughout the cell block.Phoenix turned back toward his cell and pulled off the baggy striped shirt, tying it around his waist.The first night he’d been in lockdown, he remembered, he had lain on the same cot at his right, pulled the sheet over his head, and pretended like he was deaf for the night.Behind him, he could hear the others start to ‘fish’, as they called it.He simply sat on his cot and, once again, pretended not to hear anything, especially not Larry’s stage-whisper taunts to ‘toupee-head’, as he called him.  

“ _I DON’T WANT TO BE HEERRE!”_ Came the telltale cry that broke Phoenix from his reverie.  He pushed himself into a standing position again and leaned on his bars, watching as Toupee-Scalp rattled his own, looking like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum.  

“Looks like we’ve got a winner!” He heard someone above him yell, and across the block, others started cheering for the Toupee-Scalp.  

“Please, let me out!there’s been a mistake!” the man kept screeching. “I’m not a killer!”

“ _What in god’s name is going on in here?_ ” Lang’s voice echoed from the entrance to the block, and Phoenix took a step back from his bars to stand further in the shadow.  

“Please, please, you have to let me out of here!” the crazed man kept yelling, only interrupted by some sobs every once in a while. “There’s been a mistake, I’m not supposed to be in here!”

“ _Join the club, asshole._ ” Phoenix heard another man yell.  

“Now listen here,” Lang growled. “You will shut up right now, or I will drag you out here and make you shut up.Do I make myself clear?” 

“Hey, shut up,” Phoenix heard Larry urge Toupee-Scalp.

“Please, let me talk to my mother, I’m going to be siiiiick!” He squealed as his cell screeched open, and Phoenix watched Lang drag him out of his cell by the collar.Five years before, Phoenix would have looked away when the captain pulled out his asp and started beating on the man in front of him.Something told him that he should look away now, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.He watched as Lang took turns beating on the man’s head, then his stomach, and back again.Belatedly, Phoenix realized that the silver fox two cells down hadn’t made a noise.

Stuffy bastard cost him ten cigarettes his first night in.

 

* * *

 

Miles Edgeworth knew he had…high standards when it came to quality control in his life.He and his father had never been low on money, nor had they ever had to settle for anything less than high quality food.So, as he sat at the long wooden tables in the cafeteria, picking out a maggot from what he assumed as potatoes, he felt no shame when his stomach started to churn.He was about to toss it on the floor when a voice started up next to him.

“Are you going to eat that?” 

Edgeworth started, turning his head to see an old man sitting across the table from him.The man was bald, and the beard on his face reached well past his collarbone, but there was still a glint of youth in his light grey eyes.He was pointing to the maggot in Miles’ hand. 

“Um,” Miles found himself at a loss for words, so he simply shook his head.

“Do you mind?” The old man nodded, and Miles handed it to him.The old man smiled and held the insect closer to his face. “She’s a nice one, isn’t she?” Edgeworth was about to look away (not that the prospect of watching an elderly man eat a maggot wasn’t appealing, per se) when the man pulled his cardigan open and held the bug inside for a moment.Two seconds passed before an eager beak appeared out of the inside pocket, eliciting a giddy grin from the man. “It’s my turn to watch over Taka, and I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to feed him,” grey beard explained, leaving it right at that, as if it explained everything.Miles nodded, noting that, at the table right next to him, there was a man with stark black hair pulled back into a bushy ponytail watching him.A shock of white hair broke the blackness in the front of his fringe.Instead of speaking, the long haired man simply nodded to Miles before turning back to his own meal.

“Oh no, here he comes,” Apollo groaned at the table next to Edgeworth, and Simon looked up from his tray to see Larry making his way over to the table, a grin spread across his face.  

“Ladies, gentlemen, _Simon,_ ” Larry crooned as he took his usual place across from Phoenix. “I do believe you owe me some cigarettes, if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gumshoe grumbled, leading everyone in lining up their cigarettes for Larry. 

“Does this mean you’re gonna start paying back your tab?” Phoenix asked, watching as the man’s eyes grew wide as plates. 

“What do you mean?I figured I owe a couple to my winning horse, that was a great show he put on last night.” 

“Yeah, might wanna make sure he’s okay,” Klavier piped up from where he sat. “Lang had a field day with him.”

“You are right,” Larry nodded. "So very, very right.  You're too smart for this hell hole," he grinned at the blonde turning around and nudging the man behind him. “Hey, Jake.You still working in the infirmary?”

“Yes sir,” the man drawled, turning to face Larry.

“How’s my horse doing, you think he’ll be up for a couple cigarettes when he’s out?” 

“He’s dead,” Jake deadpanned, and everyone at the table stopped dead in their tracks.  

“Dead?” Phoenix leaned around Larry to see the cowboy easier.  

“As a door nail.Lang beat him up pretty good and the doc had already left for the night.Poor fucker laid there until this morning.” A hush fell over the immediate area around where the conversation was being held.  Phoenix was about to open his mouth when another voice came from his right.

“Did anyone know his name?” All heads turned to see the gray haired man sitting kitty-corner from the Judge, leaned over his tray in what seemed to be an attempt to hear better.  

“What did you say?” Larry leaned closer.  

“I asked if anyone knew his name,” the man repeated.

“Doesn’t matter, he’s dead,” Jake grumped. “Whatever it was, they’ll be sure to carve it on his headstone.” Phoenix turned from Jake to his horse from last night, watching as he retreated back into his own little world, stabbing his fork absentmindedly into his grits.

 

 

 


	3. The Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best of friendships start as a slow burn, and Phoenix and Miles test the waters with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple things:  
> 1\. I've edited the tags for this, there's implied rape/non-con in this chapter. It's not explicitly described, but I figured I should give you a heads up.  
> 2\. I do plan on editing/revising some of the chapters I've already posted, but nothing that'll change the plot/storyline.  
> 3\. I'm in the middle of writing the next chapter, and I'm fighting with myself over whether or not I should do a lineup of what the gang is all in jail for. What do you guys think? Should I include that in the next chapter, or post a separate file with what they've done? Let me know!  
> 4\. You guys are beautiful.

Miles was eternally grateful that the shower block was significantly different than the preparation block.He had spent the first three weeks in prison trying to wash away the feeling of guilt slowly eating away at his insides.The court date from three weeks ago still rung loudly in his ears, and he gripped the soap harder in his hand.He scrubbed it through his hair quickly before setting it back down under the spigot.He’d kept to himself, mostly, trying to keep a low profile until he knew who he could and couldn’t trust.Leaning back under the shower head, he carded his fingers through his hair, making sure to get all the suds out.Prisoners alternated days in which they showered, and he hated the sticky feeling he got whenever he had to skip a day.The memories he’d been trying to keep at bay of his father were becoming more and more persistent as the days wore on.He’d read through most of the book of Common Law, which was about as intriguing as a toddler’s scribbles.He’d been a law student, for goodness’ sake, and now the warden was expecting him to reread what he’d learned in the first three days of school?   

The warden, now _that_ was a different story altogether.He’d only seen him the one time, when the new inmates were prepared for prison life.Beyond that, he imagined that von Karma stayed behind closed doors for a reason, and he imagined that that reason was mostly to keep peasants like himself away.  What baffled Miles, however, was the notion that a prosecutor as famous and successful like von Karma would stoop so low as to running a state penitentiary.  Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t heard much of the prosecutor after the DL-6 (that’s what the papers were calling it, at least) incident.  It chilled his blood to think of that day, and before he could follow that train of thought any further, he turned to leave.  He made it half a step farther only to find himself squaring off with a man less than an inch taller than himself, and with broader shoulders.  He had light chestnut hair that hung to the middle of his neck, half of his fringe combed so that it would cover his right eye.  

“Hey,” his voice was low, in a register that Miles had only heard a few times before. “Has anybody come at you yet?” The shorter man was taken aback at the question, and looked from the spigot back to the man.

“Excuse me?” He asked, mostly for lack of anything else to say.

“Has anybody come at you yet, you know, like, have you _made any friends,_ honey?” His demeanor was smooth, and he cocked his hips out to the side.It made Miles’ skin crawl.

“I’m not interested,” he replied and stepped around the larger man, nudging his shoulder as he passed.

Matt Engarde watched him leave, taking a minute to admire the curve of muscles leading down the small of the other man’s back.He grinned and turned, turning on the water where Miles had just stood.  

“Hard to get,” he sneered at the man standing next to him, whose golden blonde hair stuck to his head.Had he not been as pale as he was, Engarde would have had to look twice to make sure he was talking to the right person.He bit his lips together and grinned, nodding to where Miles was walking away. “I like it.”  

 

* * *

 

“Look alive, Nick!” Larry called out from the yard, winding up before letting the ball fly loose.Luckily for the spiky-haired man, he had quick reflexes and caught the ball before it slammed into his face. 

“Watch out, Larry, I almost lost my nose to you,” Phoenix called, tossing the ball in his hand a couple of times before tossing it over to Gumshoe, who leaned over to speak with Apollo under his breath.  

“Wouldn’t have happened if you’d pay attention for once in your life,” Larry called back, a grin on his face.Phoenix mimed the words back to his friend before taking another scan of the yard.He enjoyed the time outside more than anything else.Sure, working in the woodshed like he, Diego, Simon, and Gumshoe did was good to keep the mind and hands busy, and it sure as hell beat laundry duty with Apollo and Larry (he really didn’t want to think of what cleaning floors with Klavier would be like (not that he didn’t like Klavier, mind, he simply wasn’t a fan of the work)), but being able to call the shots in his own life for a few hours out of the day made him feel that much better about himself.The routine of prison was nothing less of monotonous. 

The newbies in the block had been one of the most exciting parts of the past month.After the demise of Toupee-Scalp (Frank Sawhit, he’d learned from Jake Marshall down in the infirmary), he’d lost track of most of the other newcomers.All except for Silver Fox, as he’d coined the man.Of course, he hadn’t asked Apollo or Larry what the man was like (though they had told him that the man worked with them in the laundry block), but he did feel a tug on his attention span whenever he was around. _You’re being stupid, Phoenix_ , he thought to himself as the baseball was chucked back in his direction.This time, he was more prepared for it, and caught it easily.He tossed it to Apollo, but overshot by a few feet.Behind him like always, Klavier reached up and caught the ball for the short man.He chuckled to himself and turned back to the yard.Silver Fox was slowly making his way toward him, the striped outfit baggy except for where a belt tugged his pants to his frame.He had his hands in his pockets and looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.For a moment, Phoenix envied him.As soon as he realized that Silver Fox was on his way over to him, he turned back to the impromptu game of catch in an attempt to look casual.He felt his heart racing. _Shut up, you_ , he focused on catching and releasing the leather, letting the ball flop into his hand before he threw it over to Apollo again, making sure this time to aim lower.The other man seemed relieved.  

“Excuse me,” a voice came from behind him, and Phoenix turned on his heel to see the Silver Fox watching him carefully.Up close, Phoenix was able to look at the man properly; his cheekbones, high and strong, pulled the skin over his face taut, and the eyebrows above his sockets were pulled up in concern, or confusion, Phoenix wasn’t sure.  

“Can I help you?” Phoenix asked, watching the man’s grey eyes look him over.Absently, Phoenix wondered if there was anything about this man that wasn’t gray.Hell, there was only a few shades of white separating his hair from black and tinting it a gray color.His jaw moved up and down, as if he was trying to forge the words that he wanted to say.

“ _Heads up!_ ” a voice came from Phoenix’s left and he turned just in time to see the baseball careening toward himself and Silver Fox.With a touch of desperation, he reached out and caught the ball right before it hit the newcomer straight in the face.He stumbled a few more times before steadying himself and turning back toward the man who had thrown it.Larry was rubbing the back of his neck like he did every time he messed up.With a laugh, Phoenix tossed the ball back to him, holding his hands up in a ‘time out’ gesture.He turned back to the other man, realizing that, had he not been right handed, he would not have had room to swing his arm. 

“Sorry about that,” he laughed nervously, taking a step back. “Whenever something smells, it’s usually the Butz.” Silver Fox merely raised an eyebrow in return. “Uh,” he removed the glove from his hand and rubbed the back of his own neck. “That’s Larry Butz over there, he has a knack for getting into trouble.” With a touch of recognition, Silver Fox nodded. “What’s your name?” Phoenix stuffed one hand into his pocket, daring to look up at the man standing next to him.  

“Miles Edgeworth,” Silver Fox replied, holding out his hand for a handshake.The cogs slipped into place and Phoenix grinned, shaking his hand firmly.

“Nick,” he returned. “You’re the law kid in here for shooting his father, right?” 

Miles visibly tensed. “I did not shoot my father,” he mashed between his teeth, though it was debatable whether or not he believed it himself.He didn’t know exactly what he was expecting from the other man—certainly he wasn’t expecting that Nick would begin to laugh.

“You won’t have any problems fitting in here,” he grinned.Miles watched as the spiky-haired man shot him a sideways glance. “Every man in here is innocent.Take the Butz, for example.” He raised his voice, “Larry!How’d you get in here?”

“Lawyer screwed me over, you know that, Nick,” the man returned, chucking the ball to another man, Miles noticed that he was quite short, and the blond next to him had to catch anything over his head. 

“See?” Nick grinned at him.Frustrated, Miles shook his head and turned back to the spiked man.

“Why do they call you Nick?” He asked, desperate to change the subject.

“My full name is Phoenix Wright,” Phoenix explained. “Larry thinks that ‘Phoenix’ is too long to say.What do you want me to call you?”

“Edgeworth would be fine, or maybe Miles,” he let himself smirk. “I prefer my name over nicknames.” Phoenix laughed. 

“I had that one coming, didn’t I?Call me whatever you like, I respond to most anything.It’s good to meet you, Miles.”

“Likewise, Wright,” Miles returned, and Phoenix felt part of his stomach drop. _Fine, we’ll take baby steps,_ he thought. “I’ve been told that you’re a man who knows how to get…things,” Miles changed the subject again.Phoenix raised an eyebrow at such a common word coming from the other man’s mouth. 

“I’ve been known to locate a few _things_ from time to time,” he responded.It was true; most of the people in the prison knew his name simply because they were in need of something from the outside.Phoenix still had a lot of friends, most of whom were happy to smuggle just about anything under von Karma’s nose for a pack of cigarettes. “What are you thinking?”

“A rock hammer,” Miles watched his newfound subordinate from the corner of his eye.As he figured, Phoenix’s eyes grew.

“What is it, and why?” He asked.When he was met with a confused look in return, he sighed and crouched down, trying to make the two look less conspicuous.It took Miles another beat before he joined him. “See, if it were something that couldn’t kill someone, I wouldn’t ask—I’d just quote a price and that’d be it.But, the ‘hammer’ part is what scares me.What do you want to do with it?” Miles took a deep breath and grabbed a handful of the earth. 

“A rock hammer is used to shape and form rocks,” he started to explain, holding up a larger piece of quartz. “The hammer itself is very small, like a miniature pickaxe.”

“A p-pickaxe?” Phoenix looked a bit unnerved and Miles scoffed.

“A very small pickaxe.”

“Okay,” Phoenix set his elbows on his knees. “Let’s say I get you this rock hammer.Who’s to say you’re not going to smash anyone’s brains in?” Miles was already shaking his head.

“I keep to myself, mostly.I have no enemies here,” Miles turned when Phoenix laughed again.

“Wait around a couple years, you’ll make them,” he looked beyond Miles, nodding to a set of bleachers.Miles did the same, seeing a group of men watching him and Phoenix.He recognized the same man who had stopped him in the shower block earlier.Sitting next to him was the man who had been on his other side while he was showering.He blinked a few times, turning from the blond man and back to the game of catch, seemingly seeing double. “News travels fast here, and the Sisters seem to have taken quite a liking to you, especially Engarde.”

“Who’s the man with him?”

“Oh, you noticed that?” Phoenix’s face darkened and his voice turned to steel.  Miles reminded himself not to piss Wright off. “That’s Kristoph Gavin, he’s in for a double homicide.And the man over there with Apollo,” he turned back to the game of catch and Miles followed his finger, taking in the carbon copy of the man on the bleachers standing behind the small brunette, “is his younger brother, Klavier.Accessory to Kristoph’s murders.He’s a good guy, unlike his brother.” The man turned back to Miles with a sigh. “If I were you, I wouldn’t go too many places by myself.” Miles simply continued to give him a confused look. “The Sisters are a group of guys who take what they want, mostly by force.They don’t really care for the word ‘no’.” It took Miles a second, but when he understood, his mouth opened in a silent ‘oh’.He turned back to the bleachers to see the brown-haired man, _Engarde,_ he reminded himself, watching him with a grin. When Engarde noticed that Miles was watching him, he lifted his chin in the man’s direction and blew a kiss his way.Miles felt his skin begin to crawl for the second time that day.

“I suppose it wouldn’t make much difference if I told him that I’m not interested?” Miles asked, sounding quite miserable. 

“It wouldn’t matter.They aren’t human enough to listen to reason,” Phoenix’s glare hardened when Engarde turned his gaze on him.He stood again, and Miles was quick to follow. “Hell, I don’t even think they would qualify as human.Keep your eyes open.”

“Noted,” Miles sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.He kicked at a couple of rocks at his feet, obviously lost in thought.  

“About the rock hammer,” Phoenix started, wanting to reassure the man a little, if nothing else, “I can get it to you, no problem.However, they like to toss cells every once in a while.If they catch you with it, you don’t know me.You never talked to me.If my name comes up, I can’t do business with you again, not even for a pair of underwear.Understand?”

“Yes sir,” Miles nodded, finally looking less disturbed.Phoenix grinned. 

“How much does an item like this go for in the real world?”

“Seven dollars,” Miles was quick to answer and the other man nodded, reaching under his shirt and pulling out a notebook.He produced a pencil from his breast pocket and started jotting down a few numbers and notes.  

“My fee is usually twenty percent, but since it’s a riskier item, I might have to bump up the price.Right now…” he paused, gnawing at the end of the pencil as he thought.Phoenix went to write something else a few more times, but each time he hesitated.

“Do you want some assistance?” Miles asked, and he was met with an incredulous glance. “I’m good with numbers.”

“They never were my strong suit,” Phoenix laughed. “Maybe after we do a couple more trades I’ll let you see this.In the meantime,” Miles nodded, watching as the brunette continued to calculate, “we’re looking at ten dollars for the entire deal.Sound like a plan?”

“It’s a deal,” Miles nodded.Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something growing closer and closer.A quick glance, and he saw that it was the baseball again.He grabbed Phoenix’s sleeve and tugged him down into a crouching position.Phoenix yelped and covered his head.

“ _Sorry!_ ” Came a cry from the other side of the yard, and the two men looked up to see the man Phoenix had introduced as Larry hiding behind his glove.Phoenix sighed.

“Well, when something smells, it’s usually the Butz,” he muttered under his breath and stood back up, turning to Miles.“You’ll get your hammer in a couple of weeks.”

“Thank you, Wright,” Miles nodded.  

“Don’t thank me yet, thank me after you’ve smashed in somebody’s brains.” Instead of the same scoff he’d been giving Phoenix the entire time they’d been talking, Miles allowed himself to chuckle. “What’s so funny?” Phoenix asked, taken aback.The man had a nice smile.

“You’ll understand when you see the hammer,” Miles replied. “I will see you around…Wright.” With that, the taller man started strolling away, stopping only to pick up the ball and toss it back in his direction.Phoenix caught it easily, watching as Miles made his way through the swarms of inmates.He walked slowly, as though he hadn’t a care in the world. _He’s too good for this place,_ Phoenix thought to himself, _there are some people who just don’t belong in a prison._ As he turned to throw the ball back over to Apollo, he found himself replaying their conversation in his head.  

It was fair to say that Phoenix liked Miles right away, despite the sinister voice in the back of his head telling him to leave the man alone.  

Maybe one day he’d learn to get that voice to shut up.

 

* * *

 

A week after he made his deal with Wright, Miles was in the laundry block, watching as the giant metal carrier was dumped into warm water.Miles didn’t mind doing the laundry.He liked the smell, at least, of the bulk detergent that the prison bought and used.As long as he didn’t place his hands directly on the metal cases that carried prison uniforms from one cleaner to the next, he was at a very low risk of injury.He was allowed to remove his uniform shirt whenever he was working, and right now, it was tied around his waist so he was less at risk of getting it caught somewhere.His arms were sore from moving such heavy machinery and lifting full baskets. Sure, he’d been in good shape prior to being committed, but now he felt the muscles underneath his skin growing stronger.As he finished lowering the latest load into the suds, he heard his name being called.

“Edgeworth!” It was the guard who was in charge of the entire laundry block.He turned, hand still holding the controller at arm’s length. “We’re out of permethrin, go get some from the back.” Miles nodded and let the controller dangle, moving toward the back of the block.

The back room was just about as dull and dreary as the rest of the prison.Tubs of chemicals, detergent, and drying equipment were stacked both in and outside of the cabinets lining the walls. There were only a few walkways throughout the room, and he chose the one to his right, eyes scanning the containers for permethrin.It was the chemical that kept the bugs away from their clothes, and with spring right around the corner, he wanted to make sure that the step was skipped.By the time he found the stash, he was halfway around the room, in the back left corner.He grabbed the handles on either side of the tub and turned to find the easiest way out, only to hear the door close.His head snapped up and he stopped in his tracks.To his left, the blond man—Kristoph, he reminded himself, Kristoph—blocked the walkway, and he saw two men standing behind him.Panic started welling up in his stomach. _I wouldn’t go too many places by myself, if I were you,_ Wright’s words echoed in his head. He turned forward as if to start walking, only to see Engarde standing in front of him. The grin he wore on his face was absent.Miles set the tub down and knocked the top off, grabbing a handful of the powdered chemical inside.  

“If you get this in your eyes, it’ll blind you,” he warned, surprised that his voice stayed so even throughout the threat.Any pride he felt, however, shrank back down into fear when Engarde’s shoulders slumped and he grinned again.He lifted one hand and pushed the hair back out of his face, revealing his right eye and the four scratches that had scarred over it.Miles started, biting the tender skin inside of his cheek hard to keep from making any noise.He moved as if to toss the permethrin in his face when suddenly there were two arms under his, knocking the powered out of his hands and immobilizing him.When Engarde looked back at him, his mouth was twisted in a sinister sneer.  

“Honey,” he crooned as two other men stepped on either side of Miles, “hush.” 

 


	4. Roof Detail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only way Phoenix could describe what Miles did was so that he could feel normal again, especially in the aftermath of the Sisters' cruelty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have stared at this for far too long, so I'm just gonna post it now. I think I've played through AAI once (???) and forgot what Lang was actually like. I just remember him being a jerk, so if he's OOC, well...I'd apologize, but I'm really not sorry.  
> I think I'm gonna try and slip in what everyone's in prison for in the story itself (whether or not that actually happens is up in the air).  
> I started work last week, so updates will be farther in between from now on, but I have every intention of finishing this.  
> Shorter chapter, I apologize. These will happen, but I think the next one will be longer.

Miles didn’t need to say anything about what happened.Phoenix could tell just from watching him the next few days that something had went down with the Sisters, and the thought of it made his stomach churn.The day after it happened, the silver-haired man showed up to the cafeteria with a bruise encompassing his right eye and a split lip.On his pale neck there were more bruises, and Phoenix was almost positive if he held up his own hand as if to choke the man, they would line up perfectly.He looked like he was going to fall over, even when he was seated.Every time his face would contort into a wince, Phoenix felt his stomach churn in a mixture of anger, disgust, and empathy.The Sisters had never laid a hand on the brunette, but when Apollo had been sentenced, they’d all had to pitch in to get them to leave the short man alone (Luckily, that was still when Kristoph and Klavier had been on speaking terms, and the younger of the two had talked his older brother in to not touching Apollo (Phoenix was pretty sure that Klavier had made up some story about how Apollo was in prison for prostitution and had almost every STD on the face of the earth, but he’d never brought it up directly)). 

Miles never told anyone explicitly what had happened, but then again, he didn’t have to.After that incident, he started hanging around Phoenix’s crew more often, and before long, he had been deemed a part of their group.Phoenix was surprised how well he took to the gang.Almost immediately he was talking to Diego about coffee and to Gumshoe about the intricacies of the law—like he’d been a part of the group for longer than was true.His rock hammer had arrived a couple of weeks later, and Phoenix finally understood the joke.The boys usually pooled all the pretty rocks found in the yard into his pockets.

That’s how life carried on for the next year.Sometimes, Miles would be able to fight the Sisters off, and he would carry on until the next attempt in a better mood than usual.Other times, when they would overpower him, he would spend the next couple of days in a slump (both figuratively and literally), and he’d have new bruises to show for it.Although Miles was positive that Phoenix knew everything that was going on, the man made sure not to say anything.Miles could tell in the way he looked at him with those big blue eyes.Whenever something would happen to one of his friends, Phoenix seemed to know about it before they brought it up.  

Miles was grateful for Phoenix’s silence—he felt so much shame towards what happened whenever the Sisters cornered him that he was positive that he wouldn’t be able to put words to it. _Not now,_ he decided one day after, as he sat among the group, listening to Larry talk about some story that had happened on the outside.His ass was sore where he sat on the bench, and every time he moved it was a fresh pain over again.He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. _And certainly not in front of Larry._ Just when he was sure that his wince had gone unnoticed, he made eye contact with Phoenix, and felt a flush come to his cheeks. _Damn that man,_ he thought to himself, and busied himself with continuing to mash his potatoes.

 

* * *

 

In June, 1943, the warden called everyone into the yard during their free time.He looked extremely uncomfortable in the heat, something that Miles couldn’t help but feel a little pleased about.He was grateful for the newsboy hats that all the inmates had been outfitted with; they kept the sun out of his eyes, even if he could feel the back of his neck burning to a crisp.  

“The license plate factory next door is in need of a new roof,” his deep voice resonated through the yard and into Miles’ spine. “We are in need of one hundred volunteers for this job.Enter your names into the raffle on your right, and good luck.” Miles turned to his right after the warden had stalked back inside, where Phoenix was leaning forward, his hands in his pockets.Looking to the left to see the rest of the group either nodding or grinning, he turned back to Wright, who leaned over.

“Do you have a pack of cigarettes on you?” He whispered into his ear, and Miles nodded once. “Do you mind handing it over?It’ll help our odds.” Miles reached into his back pocket and slipped the other man the pack, following the line of men in front of the raffle tables.If it got him out of laundry for a couple of days, Miles was ready to do anything.He didn’t see Phoenix slip the guard who was picking names the pack of cigarettes, but he figured that it must have worked when the eight right names were pulled from the hat.A hand appeared on his arm and he turned to see Phoenix standing there. “I’ll take sure to get you another pack.Thanks, Edgeworth,” he grinned, and Miles nodded, unsure how else to respond.Before the man could say anything else, Larry was pulling him back to their area in the yard, babbling something about cards or checkers.Absently, Miles wondered if there was _anyone_ that Wright couldn’t persuade.

Contrary to popular belief, Miles did understand why someone might hire inmates for labor.They were low cost, usually had little else to do, and society really didn’t mind if a few safety precautions were overlooked.What he didn’t understand, however, was why re-roofing an entire armada of buildings had to be reserved for mid July, especially when there were milder months like April or September to get the job done.Even with his shirt tied around his waist, he could feel his undershirt sticking to his torso and sweat was pooling inside his hat.He figured that he had to be lucky, though.One look at Gumshoe and he was suddenly lucky that he didn’t have whatever condition the man had.The perspiration was dripping from the man’s nose and pooling where his mop kept moving.It was the third day out on the rooftop, and Miles was grateful that he was outdoors and away from the Sisters.As far as he knew, none of them had been chosen for the outdoor work.Next to him, Phoenix was whistling quietly. 

“Lang, I heard your brother died,” came a voice from behind the line, and Miles glanced over his shoulder to see the group of guards greeting the captain as he climbed the ladder onto the roof. “Terribly sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not,” Lang grumped, immediately crossing his arms over his chest.Turning back to his work, Miles kept an ear perked at their conversation.A quick peek around told him that he wasn’t the only one. “The bastard was a dirty rotten cheat.Died rich, though.Something about oil fields and whatnot.Lawyer told me that he had a million dollars to his name when he died, and that’s not an exaggeration.”

At the talk of money, almost every man on the roof’s head perked up, and Miles gave Wright a quick impressed look. Lang kept pacing on the roof, his wolfish grin turned down into a frown.

“Damn, are you going to get any of that?” The guard asked.Lang stopped moving and passed a hand over his mouth.

“Thirty-five thousand,” he muttered and started walking again.

“Shit, that’s a lot of money.You should be happy!” The guard barely got done speaking when Lang turned on him again. 

“Happy?How much of that do you _really_ think I’m gonna see?” Miles stopped working and turned around, watching the exchange before he felt a hand on his arm.

“Are you crazy?” Wright hissed at him, nodding to the mop. “Keep your eyes on your mop.” Reluctantly, the silver-haired man did so.

“When you factor in taxes, that’s already a couple of thousand.The IRS is sure to take more than necessary.So, let’s say that I use the remaining money to get a car, a nice Cadillac or something.Then, I’ve gotta use the money to pay it off.I’ve gotta pay for repairs.The missus has got another kid on the way, so they’ll be hounding me to drive it around.Then, I’ve gotta worry about them wrecking it.By the time I’m ready to actually use it, I’ll have about a hundred bucks left.Damn cheats.” By this time, Miles had set down his mop and was slowly making his way over to the group, despite Phoenix and the rest of the group hissing at him to get back to work. He was grateful that Lang was turned away from him, but he couldn’t help the guards facing his way, especially when they all drew their firearms and pointed in his direction.

“Freeze!” Each of them yelled at least once, and Miles stopped where he stood, four feet from where Lang was turning around to curse at him.  

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing, maggot?” He growled, and Miles steeled himself against the fangs. 

“Captain Lang,” he started, and he was glad that his voice only wavered a tiny bit, “Do you trust your wife?”

“What the hell did you just say to me?” Lang hissed, leaning in close so that Miles felt he should lean back.Absently he remembered his father telling him that, whenever he was faced with a client or prosecutor who was intimidating, to never back down.So he stayed in place, feeling Lang’s angry breathing on his face.

“I said, do you think your wife would go behind your back?” He repeated, quieter this time.Instead of answering, Lang just grabbed his undershirt and started dragging him toward the edge of the roof, almost knocking his legs out from underneath him.

“I think this fucker is about to have himself an accident,” Lang growled as Miles struggled to keep up.  

“Shit, he’s going to throw him off the roof!” He heard someone yell, and suddenly his mind was running a mile a minute.  

“Because, if you trust your wife, there’s a way around the IRS so that you can keep that thirty-five thousand!” He was almost shouting by the time that he stopped talking, and Lang had to pull him back onto the solid ground where his heels were brushing against the ledge.He swung his arms out to the side to steady himself, and Lang was only inches from his face, but for the moment, he was alive, and not falling to his surely broken femur forty feet below.  

“Thirty-five thousand?” The guard ground out between his teeth and Miles nodded slowly.

“Every penny of it,” Miles struggled to keep his breath down to a normal pattern, and was failing miserably.

“You better start making sense or you’re gonna wish you had wings.”

“The IRS allows every individual to make a one-time gift to an immediate family member that is tax deductible with no charge to them.They can’t even touch it.”

“Tax free?”

“Tax free.Of course,” Miles found it in himself to actually look the man in the eye again, “you could call them and they’d tell you the same information.You would be required to find a lawyer to help you set it up, though-,”

“I can’t stand those money-sucking bastards,” Lang interjected and Miles gave him a sympathetic smirk.

“I suppose I could set it up for you, I do know quite a bit about the law and banking system, and my fee would be very small,” he could feel Lang’s fists stop shaking where he held his shirt, and a quick look back into the man’s eyes told him that he had calmed down.

“What fucking fee?You’re lucky you’re not screaming on the ground right now.”

“I agree, however, I think there’s nothing like a couple of beers at the end of a long day’s work to make my colleagues here feel more like men,” he ignored Lang’s sneer and kept plowing forward through his thoughts. “I would simply ask for three beers apiece for my colleagues, and I would be happy to set up the paperwork for you.” Lang stopped, watching Miles’ face for a moment, and Miles could feel the eyes of everyone on the rooftop pointed in their direction.For a minute, he waited for Lang to push him over the edge, but when the captain dropped his hands, he didn’t push.  

“Get back to work,” he bellowed at the inmates, who all jumped back to their mops like they would explode without them before turning back to Miles. “You too.” Miles nodded and started over to his abandoned mop before he felt a gruff hand on his bicep. “We’ll do this later.”

Miles felt a swell of pride as he picked up the mop, keeping his eyes on his work instead of on those around him, who were looking at him like he had just walked on water. 

“I can not believe that that worked,” he heard Wright mutter under his breath.

"Can not or will not?" Miles hissed back, and he returned the smirk that Wright gave him.

* * *

 

Five days later, as the roof was nearly finished, every inmate that had held a mop that day was handed two bottles of beer before they were herded back to the prison.Most of them drank in groups or leaning against one another for support, but as Phoenix tipped another swig of beer into his mouth, he caught sight of Edgeworth.He was sitting by himself against the ledge where Lang had threatened to throw him over not a week earlier.A small smirk tainted his lips, and his eyes were glassy, but for the first time since meeting him, Phoenix would say that the man looked…peaceful.Larry stood after a moment and picked up his second beer, jogging over to where the silver-haired man sat.  

“Hey, Edgey!” He grinned, holding out the unopened bottle. “Want a cold one?”

Miles regarded the drink for a moment before shaking his head slowly. “No, thank you,” the small smile on his face never wavered. “I don’t drink.” 

When Larry turned around to face the group again, he was grinning.He shrugged and downed the rest of his open bottle before cracking the seal on the second, sitting down next to Apollo.Looking from them back to Miles, Phoenix caught the pair of grey eyes and stared for a long moment.It was Miles who broke the stare first with a nod before returning to his own little world.Phoenix kept watching him for a moment, absently pondering why Miles had done it.It wasn’t like any of the inmates particularly _liked_ Lang (in fact, there weren’t many of the guards who were friendly at all), so there were a few rumors going around that he had helped Lang out just to get an in with the guards.Another group figured that he had done it just so that he wouldn’t have been dead meat on the ground.Now, as Phoenix watched the man sift through his thoughts, he figured that Miles helped out the grouchy guard just to feel normal again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Can you tell that I enjoy writing dialogue?)


	5. The Pink Princess, pt. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sincerest kind of smiles are those that meet the eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I-  
> -stops-  
> I just-  
> -buries face in hands-  
> This chapter. I got through the first part of it and then after that my computer broke down. I have written this chapter three times. What did we learn today? We learned that Macbook Pros shouldn't upgrade to Yosemite and then be put through the stresses of college. That's what we learned. But we also learned that Caribou's pomegranate-black cherry smoothies are life savers. 
> 
>  
> 
> On another note, work is going well, as far as a minimum wage job goes. I'm going to try to get as much of this out before July comes around (mostly because then I start working full time at another place and I have to work part time at this place, too, so two jobs and my best friends=probably no time to write). This was also supposed to go up last night but that didn't happen because I got scheduled to work again. So there's that.
> 
> Keep the feedback coming, guys! It helps SO MUCH, especially because I had no idea what I was going to use in this chapter until the lovely tezmillion brought it up. And I don't have a beta, so most of my plot issues are unintentional.
> 
> Oh, and I didn't change Hadley's character, so we'll see if it brings up problems in the future. S/O to ChromaticHabit for the background on Lang. EDIT 6/1: I have figured out what to do, everything is under control, I repeat, everything is under control.

The next few months blurred together.Miles was starting to notice that time altogether was almost abstract in prison, and whenever he tried to bring it up to Wright, the man would laugh and tell him ‘of course it is’.As infuriating as the man was at times, however, Miles found that he was extremely knowledgeable about the prison.It turned out that he had most of the guards in his pocket already, and ever since the roof incident, Miles was finding it easier to talk to some of them.Apparently Lang was a man with a long memory, and he made sure to treat Miles at least a little better than usual.The special treatment made him feel a tad special, but as it was only when he and Lang interacted explicitly, he didn’t think much of it.

“Are you kidding?” Phoenix asked him one November day when he brought it up.They were sitting on a set of bleachers in the yard, away from the rest of the group in a rare moment of alone time.It was quite dreary, and there was a slight mist in the air.Miles was grateful that the prison issued winter clothes at the beginning of October, and he could see that Phoenix was slightly shivering under the cardigan. “Lang doesn’t treat anyone nicely.I still can’t get over how he didn’t shove you over the edge.”

Miles shrugged. “As long as you know how to talk to someone, you’ll find that they can be persuaded into most anything.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind,” Phoenix scoffed, turning back to the bleacher.There was a game of checkers sitting in front of them, and as the spiky haired man looked at his black pieces, he found himself stumped. “Damn, Edgeworth.Where did you learn to play checkers?”

“Elementary school,” Miles replied. “It is quite a juvenile game.”

“Yeah, sure,” Phoenix muttered as he pushed one of his pieces closer to Miles’ side of the board. “It’s a freaking game of wits and wagers.”The silver-haired man wasted no time in jumping over the piece, and the subsequent five behind it.Phoenix gawked at the move, trying to figure out what had just happened as his opponent claimed the six pieces. 

“Chess, however,” Miles continued, “Now _that_ truly is a game of wits.”

“Yeah, and I hate the damn thing,” Phoenix retorted. “I can’t figure it out.”

“You seem like a smart man.I could teach you,” Miles offered, peeking at the man from behind his hair.Phoenix simply laughed.

“I think you’re the first person to ever call me _smart,_ ” Phoenix laughed.Miles raised an eyebrow in response.

“Is that so?”

Phoenix nodded and shrugged. “I grew up in a weird neighborhood, and whenever I try to read…I guess the letters just get mixed up in my brain.” Miles took a moment to digest the information.

“That is fairly common, you know,” the silver haired man offered after a beat. “Did no one offer to help you with it?”

“Like I said, weird neighborhood,” Phoenix simply waved it off as if it was nothing, something that aggravated Miles. “Besides, it was the ‘20s when it first started happening, and I don’t think my teachers had ever heard about it.”

“Still, Wright,” Miles urged. “I really would be happy to help you.” Phoenix laughed.

“Yeah, sure, Edgeworth.Maybe if we ever get a bigger library,” his voice was laced with sarcasm. “Where did you ever learn how to play chess, anyway?”

“My…father,” Miles admitted.It still hurt to talk about him, and the nightmares plaguing him nightly didn’t help.Even now, in the daytime, he could feel a cold panic settling into his bones. _You fool, it is the day time,_ he thought to himself, and shook his head. “He taught me.”

“Your father, huh?” Phoenix bit his lip, moving one of his black pieces again.He waited for the other man to move before continuing. “So…why did you do it?”

"Excuse me?” Miles asked, snapping his head back up.

“Why did you kill him?Was it really an accident?”

Miles felt his blood run cold.He faced Phoenix with the hardest glare he could muster, and watched as the man shrunk away. “I did not kill my father,” he ground out, though he hardly believed it himself.They held each other’s gaze for a moment, Miles asserting his statement while Phoenix tried to find a lie somewhere in his eyes.As the moment passed, Phoenix looked down at the board first, and Miles quelled the rage in his stomach with a calming breath. “My apologies,” he murmured. “It is still a…sensitive subject.”

“I understand, sorry,” Phoenix muttered.Silence dragged on between the two.After two moves apiece, Miles cleared his throat.

“What about the others?” Miles asked quietly, looking over his shoulder to see the rest of the gang huddled together.It seemed as though Simon and Diego were busy debating one thing or another, and the rest were attempting to keep up with the two. “Are they innocent?”

Phoenix let out a nervous laugh. “No, not all of them.I think Gumshoe is the closest.” That perked Miles’ interest. “He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.He’s accused of killing a phone operator that he had a huge crush on.I think Maggey was her name.” With a look at Gumshoe, Miles felt a pang of empathy in his chest. “Then there’s Klavier, who just got caught up in his brother’s bullshit.” The mention of Kristoph twisted Miles’ stomach, but he let Phoenix keep moving. “Apollo’s serving quite a bit of time for aggravated assault and battery.He and I grew up in the same area.It happens to a lot of the kids there.The rest of them,” he sighed, and leaned closer to Miles, “are in for murder.Simon offed his old psychology professor, it’s been said that Diego killed a dame of his (but I think that that’s a rumor, too), and Larry, well, Larry says he’s in for murder, but he won’t tell me the name of the woman he killed.I don’t even know if he’s telling the truth.” As Miles watched the group with the new knowledge, he felt more empathy than he had before, and a nagging pull in his chest. He turned back to Wright with a puzzled look.

“How do you know all this?” He asked. 

“How do you think?I asked them, and if they don’t want to talk, I ask around.”

“So, even if they don’t want you to know, you find out anyway?” Miles couldn’t help but feel a little scandalized. Phoenix was undeterred by his outburst and simply shrugged.

“I make it my business to know who’s who, and who I can look out for,” he explained. Though it wasn’t much of an explanation, Miles quieted the anger behind his eyes.It didn’t go unnoticed by the other man. “I know, I know, it’s not the nicest thing in the world.But I am good at finding that people's tells, so I mostly find the truth through their lies.”

“What about you?” Miles finally asked.Phoenix recoiled, looking surprised. “Please, Wright, you had to have seen this question coming.” After another moment of surprise, Phoenix laughed.

“I suppose I did.I was wondering if you would ask,” he grinned, but after a moment, it faded. “Murder, same as you,” his blue eyes steeled as his brain turned over the thought. 

“Did you do it?” Miles asked.He didn’t know what he was expecting from the other man, but Phoenix’s shoulders bounced in a bitter laugh.

“You’re looking at the only truly guilty man in Shawshank,” Phoenix sighed, the gesture terribly cold. “Her name was Dahlia, and boy was she a frigid woman.”

“What did she do?” The silver-haired man prodded, crossing his arms over his chest.He found it almost impossible to imagine the man in front of him killing another human in cold blood.Phoenix bit his lips together, weighing the options in his head before letting out a long sigh.

“She played me for a damn fool,” he admitted. “She and I dated for a year and a half in college. When I asked her to marry me after that, she said yes.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Miles offered, "a little fast, but nice." Phoenix turned away.

“It gets there.See, after we were engaged for a couple of weeks, it was like she was a completely different person.I’d simply touch her arm and she would flinch away.Turns out,” he sighed again, “when we were just dating, it turns out that I was with her twin sister. After the sister agreed to it, Dahlia killed her. Apparently, I was next.So, I beat her to the punch,” he finally met Miles’ eyes again, and the other man found a new pain he’d missed all the previous times he had looked into Phoenix’s eyes.  It was buried behind years of cynicism and sarcasm, but Miles could see it nestled there. “And that is the first time I have told that story in seven years,” he smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Wright…I-“

“It’s fine, Mil—Edgeworth,” Phoenix caught himself. “College was a long time ago.And besides,” Miles ground his teeth into his lip before he continued to embarrass himself. “It’s nice that someone knows what really happened.”

“I…I understand,” Miles stammered, for lack of anything better to say.The two sat quietly, digesting what had just happened for a moment. The air around them was thick with emotion, and though Miles wanted to say something, anything, to make the other man feel better, he found nothing.Words had never been his strong point, a fact that he cursed at the moment.  

“So chess,” Phoenix coughed, breaking through the tense atmosphere.

“Yes!Verily,” Miles rubbed his arm. “I would be happy to teach you, in fact, I want to make a set.I was thinking of carving the pieces myself; one side of alabaster and the other of soapstone.The board, however…” he turned to Wright and allowed himself to smirk. “I’ve been told that you’re a man who knows how to get things.” Phoenix met his eyes and smiled.

“I’ve been known to locate a few things from time to time,” he responded, and for the first time all day, Phoenix’s smile met his eyes.

* * *

 

Movie days were always a treat for Phoenix.Every Sunday the guards would show one type of movie or another, or if times were rough, they would allow the inmates to listen to a popular radio show.This month, however, it was the Steel Samurai: Hero of Neo Olde Tokyo; a movie released in 1942 about a Japanese hero rising from the depths of a war-ridden Japan and helping the United States to overcome its harsh racism and help win the war with its Japanese citizens.Most of the prison, like the rest of America, labeled it as ‘Jap propaganda’ and only looked at it as face value: an action movie directed toward children and young adults.  Since it wasn't a hit in the cinema, Shawshank had been given one of the reels straight from a theater, and most of the rest of the films had been given the same fate.Miles, however, had seen it the first time it was shown in the jail, and the promptly insisted that everyone in the group watch it.It only took two weeks of persuasion and arguing for the movie, yet here Phoenix was, sandwiched between Gumshoe and Simon, watching as the Steel Samurai jumped from tree to tree, fighting Kamikaze pilots and American fighter jets alike, and giving an award-winning speech about justice and peace for the second time in a month. Phoenix would never admit it out loud, but he actually enjoyed the film.Judging by how, whenever the protagonist would land a punch on one of the bad guys, Gumshoe would cheer in his seat, he wasn’t the only one enjoying the movie.  

A hand on his shoulder made him jump in his seat and he looked over his shoulder to find Miles crouching behind him between the aisles.Phoenix turned to see him better, muttering an apology when Simon shifted away from the proximity.“One second, I love this part,” he hissed before turning back to the movie.  

“Yeah, I know, I’ve seen it six times already,” Miles murmured, and Phoenix had to stop himself from laughing out loud.

Right as the Steel Samurai was about to be crushed by an American fighter, a new pair of hands pushed him out of the way.The camera stayed locked on the Samurai’s face, whose eyes widened in shock as prices of the fighter plane were thrown on either side of him.Suddenly, the camera cut to the face of the newcomer to reveal a woman with her hair bunched onto the back of her head and a mask that boasted two large circles on her cheeks standing in the wake of the destruction, her rapier glowing in the sunlight.A few cheers sounded from the room as she took her heroic pose.

“Justice should never fight alone, Steel Samurai!” she declared, turning away from the hero and continuing to fight.Chuckling to himself, Phoenix turned his head back to watch Miles from his peripheral vision. 

“What is it?” He asked.

“I’ve been told that you’re a man who knows how to get things,” Miles whispered, closer now so that Phoenix could continue to watch the Pink Princess kick butt on screen.

“I’ve been known to locate a few things from time to time,” Phoenix grinned. “What do you need?”

“Her,” Miles answered quickly, nodding to the screen.Doing a double take, Phoenix raised one eyebrow and turned around fully in his seat. 

“The Pink Princess?” Miles nodded and Phoenix gave him a skeptical look for another moment before turning back around. “Yeah, I could get her for you.It’s going to take a while, though.Probably a month.”

“A month?” Miles hissed.He sounded incredulous and Phoenix laughed again.

“Well, yeah, Edgeworth.I don’t have her in my back pocket, as unfortunate as that is,” he turned around and winked at the other man. “But I can get her for you, don’t worry.” Miles nodded with a light smirk playing on his lips before he crouched down again, sliding out of the aisle and making his way back to the hall.

He had just rounded the corner away from the viewing room to head down to the yard where he had promised Klavier and Larry he would play checkers when he heard footsteps behind him.A wave of panic settled into his bones and he picked up the pace, already feeling a cold sweat on his forehead.Right as he passed the reel room, a heavy footfall in front of him brought him back to the real world.Standing in front of him was a man with purple-tinted hair and a smile that, had he still been in the real world, amongst his jewels, would have sparkled.Miles had heard Engarde call him ‘Redd’ on numerous occasions, and if he remembered correctly from Wright and Gumshoe, a ‘White’ came after that name.Stopping dead in his tracks, Miles turned as if to flee in the direction from which he came, only to come face-to-face with Kristoph Gavin, whose calm and collected face caused shivers to run down his spine.He was about to turn when he felt two solid arms on either side of his, and suddenly, he was being raised from where he stood.Kicking a few times, Miles tried turning in White’s arms, only to be rewarded with a hard hit to the head.The world around Miles went blurry for a moment.  Before he could get his head back on straight, he heard a door opening.

“Get out of here,” a harsh voice came from behind them, and Miles felt his face pale.When he opened his eyes again, Matt Engarde was standing in front of him, but facing an old man next to the reel.

“I have to change the-“

“ _I said get the fuck out of here,_ ” Engarde growled.Without so much as another sound, the old man scurried out of the room.Miles couldn’t even find it in himself to blame the poor man.His feet met the ground faster than he would have liked, and he stumbled a few steps away, trying to gain his composure before what he knew was going to happen came. “Aren’t you even going to scream?” the sinister voice came from behind him and Miles turned to see that his hair was pushed back, revealing his scarred eye.Steeling himself, he simply turned his back to face a counter full of reels.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he muttered, setting his hands on one of the top ones.He heard footsteps coming toward him, waiting until they were closer before curling his fingers around one of the metal casings.Finally he heard someone grow close enough on his right, and wasted no time snatching up the reel and twisting on his heel.

The reel smacked into Redd White’s nose with a satisfying ‘crack’.The man staggered back a few steps, holding his face with both hands.Before he could turn on Gavin or Engarde, he felt a solid punch to his gut.For a moment, his breath stopped and he struggled to inhale.Panic flooded through his system anew as he was pushed to his knees from behind as a fist tangled in his silver hair.He tested the man’s grip before realizing that he had little room to move.A pair of legs moved into his line of sight and he directed his eyes upward to find Engarde standing in front of him.  

He held a shank in his right hand, pointed directly at Miles’ head.Frozen in place, Miles found himself unable to look away from the sharp point.Before now, the encounters were mostly enforced with blunt objects.Wherever the hell Engarde had found a _shank_ baffled Miles beyond belief.  

“Now, I’m going to open my pants,” Engarde grumbled, the grin back on his sick face, “and you’re going to swallow what I give you.And since you broke Redd’s nose over there, I suppose you owe him a favor, too.So, you’re going to swallow what he gives you, too.Do you understand?” On instinct, Miles shook his head minutely.He was simply happy that he didn’t whimper. “And if you have a problem with this, I’m going to shove this into your ear,” Engarde wiggled the shank and smiled when the grey eyes met his own.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Miles mashed out of his mouth.When he was met with an incredulous look, he felt a swell of pride that he’d made the man wait. “Sudden trauma to the brain can cause the victim’s jaw to lock in a,” he coughed and raised an eyebrow at Engarde, “ahem.Biting.Fashion.” The chestnut haired man’s eyes widened in recognition and his nostrils flared. “It’s been found that some victims’ jaws have to be pried open with a _crowbar_ ,” he continued.He opened his mouth to keep talking when Gavin shook his head, effectively shutting him up again.

“How do you know this?” Engarde asked, his knuckled white on the shank.

“I read it in a case file,” Miles allowed himself to smirk. “Can you even read, you _dense motherfucker_?” 

The only thing Miles was able to register before blinding _pain_ was the sound of the shank hitting the ground next to his knee.Before he could even understand what had happened, his face met the concrete under his knees.There was a sickening ‘crack’ from his nose. _It’s broken,_ he thought, trying to roll onto his side to stand up.A foot connected with his stomach and he gagged, doubling back onto the floor.After the first two kicks, the hits started coming faster and harder.The first real waves of panic started flowing soon after, and he started pushing himself up onto all fours.As soon as his hands were away from his aching stomach, a heel came down hard on his ribs.The sickening crack of bones breaking was finally enough to break Miles’ silence with a shrill screech.Any attempts that he had made to change positions failed.As he hit the ground again on his broken face,one thought managed to break through the pain before the stomper repeated the action.

 _I’m going to die,_  registered through the pain before everything went black.

* * *

 

The news that the Sisters had beaten Edgeworth within an inch of his life moved fast throughout the prison.It started with Phoenix, who had accompanied the old man back to the reel room when the first film ran out.There, they had found Miles bleeding on the floor, barely breathing.Phoenix had sent the old man to the nearest guard while he did his best to stay away from the motionless figure.Growing up, he had seen enough crime scenes to know that moving someone who is unconscious was a terrible idea.Instead, he gripped the second reel from the Steel Samurai and seethed, thinking of every possible way to make the Sisters pay.  

The third party to hear about it was the guard on duty for the viewing room.After that, Phoenix had been pushed to the back of the room while five officers eased Miles onto a stretcher and hurried him away to the infirmary.By that time everyone in the viewing room knew what had happened.Simon had to physically restrain Gumshoe from running down to the infirmary himself to see if Edgeworth had survived, telling the man over and over that he would be of no help.The rest of the group found out later that night at dinner.None of them remembered sitting so quietly in each other’s company.

Von Karma found out through one of the guards, and sent the poor man running to put Matt Engarde in the hole for a week.It was an easy sentence, Phoenix figured, since Miles would have to lay in the infirmary for a month.  

“I can’t believe that he’s going to live,” Apollo muttered at lunch the next day.Phoenix watched him quietly from his side of the table. 

“You thought he wouldn’t?” Diego asked from behind his hand.Apollo sputtered and quieted down at that, folding his hands in his lap and ducking his head.The news had hit everyone pretty hard yesterday.Now, with almost 24 hours to stew on the information, bitterness had set in for most.  

If anyone could put a capital ‘b’ in bitter, however, it was Gumshoe.“Mister Edgeworth wouldn’t die from psychos like them, pal,” he cut in. “There’s no way he would have gone down without a fight.”

“Still, it sounds like he got his ass handed to him,” said Diego, turning to Phoenix. “What about you?I heard that you and that old man found him.” As much as Phoenix had tried to forget the image of Miles laying almost lifeless on the reel room’s floor, he couldn’t deny that the picture had run through his head all night. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t good,” he admitted. “There was a lot of blood, but the reels were all a mess, too.I don’t think he went down without a fight.” Next to him, Larry whooped and clapped Phoenix on the back.

“That’s a good thing right?Maybe good ol’ Edgey got a couple knocks in.”

“Yeah, Larry,” Phoenix muttered. “Good ol’ 'Edgey'.” Out of the corner of his eye, Phoenix saw Gumshoe deflate a little, but he opted to focus on his meal, stabbing whatever type of meat they had mashed into a casserole and pretending it was Matt Engarde’s head. 

* * *

 

“Come on, maggot,” a harsh voice came from outside the cell.Matt Engarde jumped, but remembered to shield his eyes from the sudden light before it came.The heavy door slid open with a harsh squeal and he was grateful that he’d held up his hand. “Week’s up, back to your cell.” The man stood from his corner, blinking a few times to adjust to the light before straightening his shirt with a grin.  

“Thanks, Mister Guard Guy,” he smiled, and shoved his hands into his pockets.The guards followed him at a short distance, making sure that he made it to the cell block.As Engarde walked back to his cell, he was feeling weightless.Sure, a week in the hole could feel like a million years, but he had opted to use it as an opportunity to plan things out.It wasn’t the first time he’d served a week, but he figured that if he was a bit more careful in the future, it sure could be his last.He turned the corner back into his cell, playing with the tips of his bangs when he ran full-force into a sturdy wall of muscle.Stumbling back a bit, Engarde dropped his hand and fixed his most sinister glare on whomever had interrupted him. In front of him stood Captain Lang, who was standing at-ease in a full uniform.  He dropped the glare immediately, switching back to his airhead persona he emitted on an everyday basis.Even with the (ridiculous in Engarde’s mind) hat on his head, though, the Captain radiated an air of contempt.  A chill ran through the cell.  

“Uh, can I help you, Mr. Captain sir?” He threw in a smile at the man, who simply blinked slowly at him.Engarde watched his hand closely as it was brought up to his hat, and Lang removed it quietly, almost reverently.He turned if over in his hands a few times.

“Lang Zi says,” the captain started slowly.He carefully set the hat down on the cell bunk before leveling himself in front of Engarde again.The convict was dimly aware of two sets of footsteps behind him, coming to a halt at the cell door.He turned his head a fraction to see the entryway blocked off. “The wolf that eats its own is destined to be destroyed by a force bigger than itself.”

“Look, man-“ Engarde started, only to be stopped by a force to his stomach.Looking down, he saw that Lang had drawn his asp and it was currently being dug into his abdomen.After gasping for air for a moment, he reeled back as if to retaliate, only to have a white light explode in the back of his head.He faltered, starting to fall backwards only to have one of the guards behind him jab the baton into his lower back while Lang reared back for a full-on blow to the temple.Engarde registered that he was falling before he hit the ground, but not long before.He was just blinking back into consciousness when he heard a gruff ‘grab his feet’ from above him.  For the first time in ten years, Matt Engarde screamed.

* * *

 

Three things happened after that.Matt Engarde never walked, or ate food that didn’t come from a straw ever again.He was transferred to a low-maintenance security prison once he was able to sit upin a wheelchair.The Sisters never touched Miles Edgeworth again, and most were afraid to even look at the man.It didn’t change the fact that Miles would be in the infirmary for another three weeks, but as Phoenix, Simon, Diego, and Gumshoe watched the truck carrying Engarde drive away, they couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

“Hey, pals,” Gumshoe was the first to pipe up. “I think we should do something nice for Mister Edgeworth when he gets out of the infirmary.” The other three nodded.

“The man likes rocks,” Phoenix offered. “He wanted to carve himself his own chess board.Alabaster and soapstone.”

“The warden was saying something about a job out turning soil,” Simon offered, his arms crossed over his chest.Phoenix rubbed his chin thoughtfully, leaning forward so that he could see the rest of the group. 

“Everyone in?” When he was met with three nods in his direction, he leaned back, grinning to himself. “I’ll see what I can do.”

It was a long three weeks, with more than one incident of Larry finding petrified animal droppings of one kind or another, but by the time Miles was slotted to get out of the infirmary, they had gathered enough alabaster and soapstone to last the man a few years.Phoenix was sitting in the company of Apollo and Klavier the night before Miles was supposed to return, rifling through the latest shipment in when his hand brushed against something long and cylindrical. With an eyebrow quirked, he removed the tube and broke into a grin.It would take some serious negotiating with a few of the other inmates, but Phoenix was almost positive that Miles would absolutely love his return. 

As it turns out, he did.As Miles made the familiar trip back to his own cell, he still was sore and the bruises were still in the process of fading, but he could move with minimal pain and stay upright for more than just a few hours, so he wasn’t going to complain too much.He had heard what had happened to Engarde.  As grateful as he was that he would never have to see the despicable man again, the pain in his sides and head would keep the memories fresher than he would have liked.  He hoped, like the bruises eventually would, that they would fade.

Miles paused in the entryway to his cell, taking in the interior for a moment before finally looking to the bunk.Had he not been looking at the same sixteen foot room for two—almost three—years, he wouldn’t have noticed the inconsistency in his sheets.Raising an eyebrow, he pulled back the sheet to find a cardboard tube underneath, as well as a drawstring bag and a note.He gingerly sat down on the bed, careful not to disturb his ribs, and picked up the note, holding it close to his face.He recognized Phoenix’s chicken-scratch writing on the paper, and with a smirk, he started to read.

‘ _Edgeworth,_ ’ it read, and Miles was grateful for the formality, ’ _No charge.Welcome back, Phoenix and the boys._ ’

Allowing himself to smile, Miles screwed open the tube and pulled out the poster.On the glossy paper was a print of the Pink Princess in the pose she took in the film at her first appearance, kimono blowing in the wind and rapier pointed at the camera.His smile grew and he directed his gaze at the wall in front of him.  As he felt hope well up in his chest again, the smile finally met his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DON'T HAVE TO WRITE MATT ENGARDE EVER AGAIN FREAKING YES I'M SO STOKED.


	6. Warden von Karma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles meets von Karma personally, and contemplates expanding the prison library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh kay.  
> Firstly, I want to thank you guys for reading. All the kudos, views, and follows are so appreciated, it fuels my drive to write. I LOVE hearing your feedback, any type at all. It literally brightens my day.  
> Secondly, I want to apologize for the delay. It's not a huge delay, but it was long enough, and this is a short chapter.  
> Thirdly, I want to say that it's probably going to be this long (if not longer) for updates in the future. Like I said, this is a short chapter (one out of two filler chapters, if you will), and it's mostly to keep the update time shorter while we wait for the excrement to hit the oscillator.  
> Fourthly, I just want to let you all know that work is going well, I'm in a band again (playing keyboard and bass), so that's what's eating up most of my time. I figure you should know.  
> Fifthly (this is the last I promise), I DO have a plan for Lang/Hadley, there will be a change in character in a later chapter, just...not this one. Or the next. I don't remember without looking at my notes. So. Stay tuned for that!
> 
> Enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!

Mopping floors might not have been the most glamorous of jobs possible, but Klavier was content with it.Most of the day, he got to stay indoors, sweeping and mopping the dirt and grime that accumulated from the outdoors.It gave him time to be alone with this thoughts without the oppressive power of his cell, and it required minimal effort to keep his mind on the task at hand.After morning cell checks but before lunch, he would be escorted to grab his mop and buckets, and he would clean the cell block like his life depended on it.That morning, however, as he made the halfway point, he glanced down the exit hallway as usual, only to see that there was a group of guards making their way down to the block.Behind the first two, a face he’d only seen from afar appeared.The warden wasn’t necessarily a man with pleasant features, and on a morning like that, halfway through December, he looked almost…evil.Klavier shuddered and turned back to his mop, stage-whispering as loud as possible, “They’re tossing cells!” He paused a few more moments.As the lock from the hall clicked out of place, he repeated the statement, this time at a talking level.  

When the door opened, it was almost immediate.  

“I want 122345, 298756, 972011, 783423, and 087342,” Warden von Karma was barking as they made their way in.The respective guards fanned out to the appointed cells, brushing past Klavier without so much as a passing thought.  

Miles heard his number called from below and jumped to attention, promptly shutting COMMON LAW and sitting up straight.He straightened his shirt and brushed out the wrinkles as he remembered the warden’s ardent need for perfection.His hand had just finished pressing out the last wrinkle when the cell’s bars were slammed open and Lang was standing in the entry. 

“Stand up,” he ordered, the usual bite missing from his voice. Miles was quick to oblige. “Face the wall.” The silver haired man did so, turning his back to the captain and facing the concrete.Behind him, he could hear everything being turned over; the shelf he’d made on his wall was torn down, his mattress was pulled off of its setting and the sheets were torn off of it.The rocks that he had already carved sitting on his windowsill were thrown onto the ground.He said a silent prayer hoping that they didn’t shatter.  

“Turn around, face the warden,” Lang’s voice came from behind him and he did so, coming face-to-face with Manfred von Karma.A pit lodged in his stomach, sitting right under his heart.He felt his palms start to sweat against the book he still held near to his leg.Von Karma looked older than he remembered, as if the six years that had separated them had been harder on him than on Miles.More of his blue-tinted hair had turned grey, and the wrinkles on his face seemed more deeply-set, but his suit remained unchanged.Miles took in everything through his periphery, making sure that he eyes stayed locked on von Karma’s.  

“I see you are reading up on the law,” von Karma started, sounding utterly stiff.He reached forward and plucked the book out of Miles’ hand. “I am sure you know which ones you broke to land yourself here?”

“Page two hundred and fifty-two, clause three, paragraph one, sentence four,” Miles rattled off.Only the second piece of information had been stuck in his head since law school; he had read the page over and over again. “A non-premeditated killing resulting from an assault in which death of the victim was a distinct possibility.” 

“Second degree murder,” von Karma nodded solemnly. “I would have pegged you for a man who would have committed page one hundred and thirteen, clause one, paragraph four, sentence two.”

“The felony crime of intentionally burning a house or other building,” Miles filled in. “Arson.”

von Karma’s eyebrow twitched upward. “I see that you are well-versed in Common Law.” Miles simply nodded, pushing memories of studying it with his father back down into the abyss.  

“I enjoy some light reading from time to time,” Miles replied, watching as von Karma’s eyebrow relaxed again.  

“Sir,” Lang’s voice brought them back to Miles’ cell.The captain was holding a few pieces of sandpaper in his hands.Miles glanced down at his crate filled with rock and papers, suddenly glad that Lang had opted to focus on the sandpaper rather than the rocks Phoenix and the rest of the group had found for him.von Karma took the paper in his hand and held it up to his nose, fixing Miles with a contempt-filled glare.

“It’s called a rock blanket,” Miles explained. “For shaping and polishing rocks.”

von Karma hesitated for a moment, weighing the man in front of him before letting out a wilted sigh. “I suppose I can overlook such…foolishness.However,” he turned to the poster of the Pink Princess with disgust. “I cannot say that I approve of this.” For a moment, Miles felt a twinge of panic and he pressed his hands to the sides of his legs.He kept his face neutral, watching von Karma process the Pink Princess before turning back to him. “A fool’s protagonist for a foolish film, however, is fit for a fool.Lock it back up,” he nodded to Lang, who strode out the door behind von Karma and pulled the door shut behind him.The warden paused for a moment, watching the prisoner from the other side of the bars. “I understand you do your duties in the laundry block,” it was a statement more than a question, but Miles nodded nonetheless. “Report to the library.You will have different duties starting today.” He turned as if to leave, and Miles watched them go, his eyes fixed on the book that the warden still held in his hand.“Oh, yes,” the man nodded, and held out the text between the bars, “wouldn’t want to forget this.Freedom is found within the law.”

“Yes, sir,” Miles nodded in return, taking the book back and holding it closer to his chest.He watched as the warden made his way back to the outside world.He held his book closer, absently running his thumb over the worn spine. 

* * *

Miles Edgeworth could think of ten words off the top of his head to describe the library.  _Small, minuscule, under-funded,_ and _sad_ came first.  It was blocked off for an entire other wing, but four shelves only seventy-five percent filled with books were shoved into a back room.  It left the rest of the space, two full rooms empty beforehand to walk through.  Miles crossed the space slowly, taking in the high windows and dust-heavy air with a solemn tone.  He had always loved libraries on the outside, and to see one so…depressing (number five, he figured) struck a chord in his chest.  As he looked around, his hands pressed against his thighs in trepidation, 

“Hello?” He called out.His heart beat faster in his chest.He hadn’t seen the Sisters ever since he’d been out of the infirmary, but he already knew that some wounds took more than a few weeks to heal.Just as he was about to turn and leave, a short man appeared from the back room.Miles recognized him immediately; the first time they met, he had been sitting at his first lunch hour, picking a maggot out of his potatoes.He looked more hunched than Miles remembered, but the long grey beard connected to his chin was unmistakable.The man’s bald head was empty for a moment before a hulking bird landed on top of it, and Miles couldn’t help the smile that touched his lips. 

“Judge, it’s good to see you,” Miles nodded, watching as the bird, Taka, he reminded himself, spread its wings at him.  

“Mister Edgeworth!” The old man’s eyes grew almost comically, but his smile was genuine. “What brings you to these parts?”

“I was re-assigned to the library,” Miles explained.On top of the Judge’s head, Taka fussed.The younger of the two reached up to pet between the bird’s eyes. “He has certainly grown.”

“Oh, Taka?” The Judge smiled and held out his arm.Miles noted that he wore a slightly sturdier shirt than anyone else in the prison, but didn’t mention it out loud.Taka hopped down from the Judge’s head and onto his arm, where the Judge sat him down on a bookshelf. “Yes, he has.I remember when he was just a little thing.”

“He wasn’t that small, and that was only two years ago,” Miles reasoned, a lump in his throat.The old man stopped and thought for a moment, hand absently running through his beard. 

“I suppose you’re right, Edgeworth.” The smile he gave the younger man was gleeful as if he were five years old.Miles had to remind himself that the man had been in jail for almost sixty years now, but the smile that the Judge gave him was surely carefree. “I don’t remember things so well anymore.” 

Miles opened his mouth as if to say something more, to call the man by his real name, but found himself at a loss for what was trying to come out of his mouth.To the best of his memory, he hadn’t heard anyone call the Judge by his real name.He’d have to ask Wright if the old man even _had_ a name.

“Judge,” he started, watching as Taka hopped along the windowsill, pecking at imaginary insects as he went.The Judge turned to look at him, his eyebrows raised. “How long have you been the librarian here?”

“Oh, well, let’s see,” the Judge turned to one of his shelves, absentmindedly straightening the spines for a moment as he thought. “I came here in 1897, and then they put in a library in ’15, so…almost forty years.Why?”

“Have you ever had an assistant?”

“An assistant?” The Judge laughed. “No, my job is fairly easy.I load up my cart every night, go down to the cell block, and ask the fellas if they want anything to read.It’s not the hardest job on the block. Why?”

“I’m simply trying to figure something out,” Miles muttered.He was about to ask another question when he heard Lang’s voice behind him, hushed yet stern.If anything, Miles could tell that the captain was trying to keep things on the down-low.The Judge stood on his tiptoes to try and see around him, and when he spotted the two guards, the old man went stiff.  

“That’s him,” Miles heard Lang say, and he turned to get a better look at them.Lang’s chin was jutting out at the younger man.The second guard raised his head to blink owlishly at Miles before nodding.The guard in question walked forward, still wary of the two.Miles took another step to the side to show that it was only him and the Judge, but the officer still did not relax.

“Miles Edgeworth,” he stated, and Miles nodded.The guard gave another look in the Judge’s direction, and must have deemed him ‘not dangerous’, because his shoulders finally relaxed. “I would like to set up a savings fund for my kid, and Captain Lang says you can help with these kind of things.” His voice wasn’t more than a mumble.Miles looked over the man’s shoulder to see Lang nodding at them, an expectant look on his face.Sputtering for a moment, Miles looked around him, finding a table shoved under a window.  

“Of course.Judge, do you have a pencil?” the gray haired man asked, looking over his shoulder to see the Judge patting his pockets for a moment before turning to run back to his cart. “What kind of fund were you thinking?”

As the Judge returned to the two men now sitting at a table that hadn’t been touched for twenty years, he couldn’t help but smile.He set the pencil down next to Miles, pushing a piece of paper with it.When Miles looked up at him, the Judge gave him a wink and went back about his business.  

* * *

 

“…And fellas, you would not believe it!Edgeworth over here looked the poor kid in the eyes and asked him straight: ‘Sir, do you want your son to flip burgers or go to Harvard?’ And he looked so bewildered that I thought he was going to have to change his pants!” The Judge gushed that night at dinner, looking more excited than Phoenix had seen him in a long time. “So Edgeworth gets done with their business and he stands up and the guard _shook his hand._ ”

“I call BS,” Diego piped up, watching the old man with a skeptical glare.The Judge simply sat straight up and held a hand over his heart. 

“No, sir.Hand to God, if this kid had had a suit and tie, it would have been a ‘Mister-Edgeworth-if-you-please’ instead of an awkward goodbye.” Gumshoe, in his normal place on the other side of Miles, clapped a hand on his shoulder with a whoop.

“Look at Mr. Edgeworth, soon you’ll be doing the entire prison duty’s taxes,” he laughed, and Miles could only scoff at the thought, though his face betrayed the disbelief. 

“It does beat standing in the laundry block for hours,” Miles nodded, and Phoenix watched as he went back to his food.The man was pointedly not making eye contact with anyone but his mash when he spoke again. “I was thinking about expanding the library, actually.” Phoenix’s eyebrows rose up to his hairline, a pang in his stomach remembering the conversation they’d had little over a month ago. 

“Oh, and how do you plan to do that, Mister-Edgeworth-If-You-Please,” Diego deadpanned, leaning his chin on his fist.Phoenix had to hand it to the resident crab, he did ask all of the important questions when he was in a bad mood.

“I’ll bring it up to the warden, first,” Miles proposed, but the Judge simply laughed and shook his head.

“Oh, sonny, there are two things that the warden wants to do with money, and that’s build thicker walls and better bars,” the Judge smiled. “But you can ask all you want, if he doesn’t bite your head off, you’ll be fine.”

“That’s the trick, though, you’ve got to walk away from it alive,” Phoenix piped up, giving Edgeworth a sly grin.

“-There are only two things the public wants their money spent on when it comes to prisons,” von Karma grumbled as he sat behind his desk.Because Miles had spent the last few months helping the guards with different financial issues, he had been allowed into the warden’s office every so often.“If I stick my neck out there asking for more tax payers’ money, it would be a foolish waste of time.”

“You wouldn’t have to,” Miles argued, watching as the old man set his chin in his hand, idly tapping his cheekbones with his pointer finger. “I would write letters to the senate, with your permission, of course.” von Karma watched him for a moment, calculating every move made by the younger man. “They cannot ignore me forever.”

“They can, and they will, I will promise you that,” von Karma replied cooly before turning back to his paperwork. “But you go ahead and write your foolish letters, see how far foolishness will get you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Miles nodded his head, turning to the door.In his head, he was already composing a letter to the government.He figured that three letters a week would be enough to get some sort of attention, but he was prepared to write more.He took a moment at the front of the library block, staring out the oversized window.For a moment, he considered his intentions for the letters.Of course he remembered his and Phoenix’s conversation earlier in the month.It would be a lie if he tried to convince someone that that wasn’t one of the main reasons to want to improve their education sections.A flush hit his neck and he pushed it back down, storming farther into the library and past Taka.When he reached the table where he had set up shop with the Judge, he sat with a huff.Wright was only a piece of the puzzle, he figured.There were plenty of inmates who could use help with their education, and he simply wanted to help them, not just the brunette.He had only started the wheels turning, surely.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips and he sat back, tapping his pencil on his lips. “Wright, Wright, Wright…” he muttered, watching clouds lazily trickle by.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't pass up the opportunity to have the 'Wright, Wright, Wright' line added. Sorry for the shortness of the chapter, next one will be normal size again.


	7. Sull'aria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phoenix and Miles find that change, nostalgia, and everything in between can put a strain on the strongest of relationships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what to say for this chapter.  
> 1\. I have edited the tags. Tread lightly.  
> 2\. The next chapter is the last filler chapter, so it'll be relatively short.  
> 3\. I finished writing most of this almost a week ago, and have been staring at it ever since, so I just need to get it out.  
> 4\. Let me know what you think! Your comments, kudos, and views are so so so SO appreciated!  
> 5\. The song really is from the Marriage of Figaro, and you can listen to it here (what the crap is a hyperlink and how do you use the internet) (this week on daryll reveals that she's just a grandmother not knowing how to run the internet): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwSNMibfaRg.

It was hot for a day in March, 1948.Phoenix and Miles sat next to each other on the ridge outside the laundry block, watching the sun slowly move from one side of the sky to another.It was a quiet morning, and both men were grateful for the down time.They had been sitting next to each other for almost ten minutes, but neither had bothered saying anything.Every once in a while, Phoenix would look look over at Miles, but never spoke.After the fourth time, Miles let out a long sigh and turned back to face the brunette, who promptly looked away.

“What is it, Wright?” he watched as the other man jumped, looking at Miles with a bewildered look.Miles let out a short scoff and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve been giving me odd looks all morning, ever since a few months ago.” Miles gave him a hard glare. “What is it?”

Phoenix paused.He looked down at his hands for a moment. “You haven’t slept well in a while,” the brunette observed, looking up to meet the other man’s eyes, which were filled with incredulity. “You have…circles, under your eyes.And you’re not particularly good at hiding a few years of not sleeping well.” Miles started, opening his mouth as if to retort.He was halfway through his first word when he realized that he had nothing to say. “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone,” Phoenix offered, looking away from Miles and back out to the yard.A beat passed between them. “Is it nightmares?”

The gray haired man was silent, simply watching Phoenix’s profile.He opened and shut his mouth a few times, unsure what to say.

“H-how did you…?” He stopped, calming the pounding in his ribs. “How did you know?”

“I recognize the look,” Wright replied, giving Miles a sideways glance. “I used to have them, too.”

Miles fell silent again, about to open his mouth when the door to his right jerked him out of his short reverie.Phoenix started and looked up at the source of the noise.Gumshoe stood in the doorway, his shoulders heaving with labored breath.

“You pals need to come with me,” he panted. “It’s the Judge.”Hearing the panic, Phoenix and Miles were up in a heartbeat, following the large man back into the prison.Miles let Phoenix follow directly after Gumshoe.Sure, Miles had worked with the Judge for almost a year, now, but he didn’t nearly have the same history that Wright did with him.Gumshoe led the two down to the library.Halfway there, they could hear Klavier’s voice carrying through the concrete.Every once in a while, it would peak into a shout, and then back into a murmur, which only seemed to edge Gumshoe on.When they reached the back room of the library, Miles almost ran right into Wright, who had stopped dead in his tracks.  

“Judge?” Phoenix’s voice was small, smaller than Miles had ever heard it.Phoenix was hardly a shy man, or one that hesitated to raise his voice.Miles stepped around him to get a better view, his feet coming to a halt themselves. 

In front of him was Larry Butz, almost bent backwards in the chokehold of the Judge.Had it not been for the spike held to the younger man’s throat, it would have been comical.Never had Miles seen the Judge look so panicked.

“I’m gonna kill him,” the old man was growling, his hand shaking as he held the spike.Miles followed the point to Larry’s neck, where there was an angry red scrape already blooming.  

“Judge, calm down,” Miles made to make a step closer, but the Judge only held the blubbering man closer. “Larry, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do nothin’, Edgey!” Larry cried, looking almost too scared to say the words themselves. “He’s just crazy!”

“ _Don’t call me that!_ ” the Judge yelled. “I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna do it…”

“Judge,” Phoenix was speaking before he knew what was saying, easing toward the two slowly. “Judge please, put it down.”

“No,” the Judge shook his head, squeezing his eyes tight.

“Judge, you’re not going to kill him.I know it, you know it, heck, I’ll bet even a klutz like Larry knows it.”

“I do!?” Larry screeched, giving Phoenix the biggest look of disbelief.Phoenix turned on him, giving him one of the hardest glares he could muster. “U-uh, yeah, Nick!Of course I do!” 

“See?Larry knows it, because the Judge is a caring, reasonable, _rational_ man,” By this time, he was only a few feet away from the old man. “Why would you want to kill Larry, anyway?” 

“Be-because,” the Judge started, his grip finally weakening.Larry started to weasel his way out of the hold. “Because, if I do, they’ll let me stay…” when he dropped the spike, his hands flew to his eyes in an open sob. Larry darted away, holding his hand to his throat as if it would start bleeding.As soon as he was free, Miles turned on him. 

“What did you do!?” the gray-haired man demanded, receiving a bewildered look from Larry. 

“I didn’t do anything, I swear!I just came to wish the man ‘fare thee well!’” 

“What do you mean?” Apollo asked from the other side of Gumshoe.  

“Didn’t you hear?His parole’s been approved!” Larry looked at them like they were crazy, and he watched as all heads turned back to where Phoenix had one arm around the Judge, easing him down into a chair.Wright kept his eyes trained on the Judge, who was staring at his hands as if they would turn into snakes.Whether or not he was asking why he hadn’t killed poor Larry, Phoenix wasn’t sure. _I guess it’s true,_ the brunette thought to himself. _When something smells, it really is the Butz._

“I can’t believe it,” Apollo muttered later that day, his head in his hands and elbows on his knees.The group had had a quiet lunch and rest of the day, and now, during their recess, they were still dumbfounded at the thought of the Judge leaving the prison.They were sitting on the bleachers outside, all except Larry.He was busy tossing rocks at nothing in particular. “He’s actually going to leave.”

“Good riddance,” Larry muttered, “Crazy old coot.”

“Fuck off, Larry,” Phoenix snapped from where he sat. “Just think about it.The man’s been in here since the 1800s.I don’t blame him for freaking out.”

“He did almost kill him, though,” Diego pointed out from behind him. 

“He’s desperate to stay,” Phoenix reasoned, turning on the man, who was sitting next to Simon.Blackquill looked about as impressed as Diego at his argument.The two watched as Wright turned away from them, glaring out at the yard. “He’s been here for seventy-five percent of his life.He’s got arthritis in both hands.I bet if he tried, he couldn’t even get a _library card_ in the real world.”

That proved enough to keep everyone silent for at least thirty seconds.  

“He has a point, pal,” Gumshoe piped up. “I think the only vehicle he’s ever seen is the one they use to bring new fish in.It’s going to be quite the change.”

“It’s sad, that’s what it is,” Apollo nodded, finally sitting up. “He’s been in here so long that he’s-he’s…What’s the word?”

“Institutionalized,” Klavier provided from where he sat on the ground, drawing aimless circles in the dirt.

“Thanks,” Apollo’s shoulders relaxed. “He was expecting to be in here for the rest of his life.Now that they’re letting him out, he can’t deal with it.This is all he knows.I’d try to kill someone, too.”

“That ain’t gonna be me,” Larry muttered.He’d stopped throwing rocks by now and opted instead to shove his hands in his pockets.

“Same here,” Diego nodded. “They aren’t taking my life away.”

“Say that when you’re the Judge’s age,” Klavier snapped. 

“Damn straight,” Phoenix’s voice was tense. “They think they’re doing everyone a favor, keeping you in here for life…but that’s exactly what they take away.” Phoenix stood from the stands, stuffing his hands in his pockets and stalking away.

* * *

 

After the Judge left, it was a long few months.It took a few weeks before the conversations started turning back to normal prison life, and the stories of the Judge were only thrown in periodically.Miles figured that everyone missed the old man, especially Wright.The brunette looked more haggard than the gray haired man had ever seen him, but he opted not to bring it up.Miles had asked Phoenix once, what their relationship was like, and Phoenix had just replied with a shrug.True to Wright’s methods, Miles turned to different sources.It wasn’t until he talked to Diego that he got answers.

“The other guys wouldn’t know, because they weren’t here when Nick came in, but…” the man stopped and passed a hand over his mouth.He gave Miles a sideways glance before shrugging. “When he did, he was a pretty angry kid.Not angry like Apollo, where he yells and takes it out on people, but the quiet kind of anger. The kind that makes people take a step back if they breathe on it wrong.” Miles nodded.During the four years between his father dying and incarceration, he had been in the same boat. “Anyway.The kid was nineteen, just got sentenced to life in jail, and frankly, no one really had the time nor the patience for him.Had that continued…” Diego paused and looked at Miles with a serious glare. “The Nick you know would be more like the older Gavin brother, if you get my drift.” The name sent shivers down Miles’ spine, but he nodded nonetheless. “But the Judge made sure to look out for him, and since I was close with the old man, we got acquainted pretty fast.I’m pretty sure Phoenix Wright looks up to the Judge more than anyone else in the prison.Maybe the world.” Miles paused to give the information the silence it deserved before thanking the man and letting him go back about his business. With the new information in mind, Miles continued on with the Judge’s duties as well as his own.Every night he would load up the book cart and bring it out to the cell block, asking everyone and their brother if they wanted something to read.It wasn’t until November, however, until Phoenix approached Miles one day with an envelope in hand, looking like a puppy who had just been kicked.

“What is it, Wright?” Miles asked, watching as the brunette kicked at the pebbles at his feet.Miles watched his shoe for a moment, keeping an eye on the concrete piece he was moving back and forth. “Did something happen?” Instead of an answer, Phoenix simply held up an envelope.Confused, Miles read the side offered to him.It was addressed to Wright, but across the bottom was scrawled something in a different penmanship:‘To the Fellas’.A lump formed in the back of his throat and he looked up. “That’s the Judge’s handwriting.” Phoenix nodded.  

“I know it says to the fellas, but…” the brunette stopped.

“You want to read it first?” Miles finished.Diego’s words rung in his head when Phoenix shyly nodded.Miles held out his hand. “I can read it to you, if you’d like.” Phoenix’s head shot up, and it looked like he was going to vehemently protest.Miles beat him to the punch. “If you cry while reading it, you might smudge the ink.” Blue eyes held grey for a moment before they softened, and Phoenix set the letter in Miles’ hand.Edgeworth led him to their usual spot on the laundry block’s edge and tore open one side of the envelope.There were two pieces of paper neatly folded inside.Taking one more look up at Wright, Miles pulled them out and unfolded them.The pages were filled to the brim with familiar handwriting.Miles cleared his throat and gave phoenix one more questioning glance.  

“Go ahead,” Wright nodded at him. “I’m ready.”

Miles returned the nod and cleared his throat, steeling himself to read what came next. 

 

_Dear fellas,_

 

_I hope this letter finds you well.Things have been pretty crazy on the outside, I’m not going to lie to you.The fastest thing I had seen in my youth was a couple of prize-winning race horses, and they’re nothing like these automobiles nowadays.The world went and got itself in a big hurry, and I’m not sure if I can keep up._

_I got put in this ‘halfway home’ program for old coots like myself, who have been on the inside too long to remember what life is really like.I got an apartment, a job, and my own bank account from it.The apartment is nice; it’s the bottom half of a big house, and the lady who rents it out to me is always nice.She makes me extra cinnamon rolls whenever she makes them, but boy, can she talk a lot.I think her name is Wendy, but when she introduced herself to me it was in a flurry of other words.She got angry at a couple ‘whippersnappers’ the other day, and made an entire batch of donuts upstairs to get her anger out.She’s very sweet.My bed is made of actual feathers, not some ratted up uniforms, but I can’t seem to sleep on it.I always wake up scared, like I’m drowning or something.I don’t know what to do about that._

_My job is at a grocery store.I can’t keep up with most of the work sometimes, and for some reason, everyone wants all their refrigerated things in two bags.My hands get tired a lot.I don’t think they can take the wear and tear of this job, but I don’t know if I’m allowed to quit.I don’t understand it.My boss is a mean worker, and he likes to yell at me a lot.Sometimes I go to the park, to feed the birds after my shift.None of them are as big (or as nice) as Taka, and I keep thinking that one day he’ll show up to say hello…but he never does.I hope the warden has let Miles keep him in the library, and if he has, tell him I say hello, would you?_

_I’m very lost in this new world.It’s too fast for me, and I spend all day finding different ways to break my parole.Maybe I’ll get a gun or something, shoot up the grocery sore.Maybe I’ll ‘accidentally’ hit my boss, just to get him to stop yelling at everyone.At this point, I’d do anything so they’d send me back._

 

The next page had much less writing on it, and it looked like it was written with a different pen.Miles frowned, but kept reading.

 

_I’m tired, fellas.I’m tired of my job, of the outside…and I’m tired of being so scared all the time.I don’t really have anyone else to tell this to, and I hope you’ll forgive me, but I can’t do this anymore.I doubt they’ll kick up a fuss about an old coot like me.If you ever pass through town, stop by and say hello…I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere else._

 

_Sincerely,_

_The Judge_

 

Miles barely made it through the last sentence before the lump in his throat cut him off.He let the letter fall between his knees and looked over to Wright, whose elbows were on his own knees, fists tangled in his spiked hair.  

“Wright…” he started, unsure what to do for the man.Not for the first time in a long time, he cursed himself for not having the words to say, nor the tone in which to say them.  

“He should have died in here,” Phoenix decided, sitting up and facing the yard.Miles watched him closely, feeling something twinge as the pain he’d only seen a handful of times bloomed in his eyes.For a moment, Wright wasn’t twenty-six and on top of the world (well, as much as he could be in a state penitentiary).He was a nineteen year old delinquent who had just been betrayed by the woman he’d asked to marry.He was at the beginning of his adulthood, standing over the body of the same woman who he’d arguably killed in self defense.In that moment, Miles saw the adult that Diego had seen at the beginning of Phoenix’s sentence, and it struck an awful chord in him.Unsure what else to do, Miles set a shaking hand on Wright’s shoulder, hoping that the gesture could reach through years of bitterness and hurt. Phoenix hardly moved at the contact, though the bitterness in his eyes did soften.After a moment, he reached his hand back and set it on Miles’, thumb lazily trailing back and forth.

* * *

Dustin Prince had been serving at Shawshank for five years.  He had seen inmates come and go, not as much as Lang, per se, but he did know enough to know when a man really didn’t belong in the penitentiary.  For the past nine months, he had mailed out Miles Edgeworth’s letters to the senate every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.  It had been tedious work.  He was almost certain that the man was nothing if not thorough; every letter was worded the exact same way, signed with the same flourish, and addressed in exactly the same manner.  

When Officer Prince signed in to work that day, almost everything was the same as it always had been; Lang was in a grouchy mood, complaining about von Karma’s latest publicity stunt.He had gotten coffee with two other officers, stalled going to his desk as much as possible, and refilled his coffee mug before finally making his way to his office.He had to pause as soon as he opened the door, however.Laying in piles that were huddled in a corner were boxes labelled as ‘donation’ in large magic marker.Luckily, he’d had a firm grip on his coffee mug and managed to swallow what was inside before he started talking again.  

“Captain Lang said you wanted to speak with me?” A voice came from behind him and Officer Prince turned to see Miles Edgeworth standing in the doorway.His eyes were fixed on the boxes.Prince had never seen any expression on the man’s face save for inquiry and apathy, so to see child-like surprise was quite baffling. 

“Looks like you finally cracked the senate,” Prince offered in the silence.

“And I thought it would take six years,” Miles replied, training his surprised look onto the officer. 

“And if the warden sees the office like this, we’re all in trouble,” a deeper voice came from behind them and they turned to see Lang standing a few feet away.“Edgeworth, I want all of these moved to the library in half an hour.Understand?” Miles gave a small nod, immediately turning back to the books.He looked much like a man who had just crossed the desert and was seeing water for the first time, Prince thought to himself.The officer walked over to his desk and sat his mug down. 

“Well, I’m going to go pitch a loaf,” Prince started, gesturing to the piles of boxes. “When I come back, this’ll be gone, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Miles nodded minutely, still not looking at the man. Prince chuckled to himself and turned to the bathroom connected to the office, making sure that the door was closed tightly.  

Miles waited until the officer was gone before he moved.He approached the boxes slowly, as if touching them would wake him from his dream.When his fingers brushed against the cardboard, however, there was nothing that could stop him.He was quick in taking the box on the top of the pile down and unfolding the flaps.He was expecting books to be neatly stacked inside, but instead, the box was filled to the brim with LPs, most missing binding in most places and the vinyl sticking out from their sleeves.Sitting on his haunches, Miles started filing through the records, reading through a few country and rock and roll albums before finding something that truly piqued his interest.  

Miles remembered his father taking him to the opera.It had happened three times, but the only time that it really stuck in his memory was the last time.He had been eighteen years old, about to embark on his first semester of law school, and fresh off the high of reading _The Barber of Seville_ for the first time.Gregory had done all that he could to get Miles to see that production, for which Miles had been eternally grateful, but when his father had come home one day with tickets to see _The Marriage of Figaro,_ the teenager had been ecstatic.Miles could remember the drive down to New York to see it, staying overnight at a hotel, and almost _demanding_ that his father take him to a record store so that he might look for the soundtrack.Unfortunately for Miles, he had never held it in his hand…until that day.The record was heavy in his hands; almost as heavy as the heartbeat in his chest.He noted that his hands were shaking a moment too late and almost dropped the precious sleeve.In that moment, he would have sawed off his own arm to listen to the LP. Miles frantically looked around the office.His mind was flying a thousand miles a minute trying to find a way to listen to the beautiful duet again between Countess Almaviva and Susanna.It was the only part of the opera he could still hear in his head.As he took another sweep of the office, his eyes landed on the record player sitting in the back of the office.The grey eyes locked on to it.With sweating palms, Miles quickly walked to the bathroom and clicked the lock shut.He turned back to the desk with fire in his eyes.  

Even after years without a record player, the device was a straightforward as always.The vinyl was a little bent in the middle (making it so that it laid crooked), but Miles had no time to wonder if it would still work fine.Flipping the machine on, he took the needle and set itat the beginning.His hands were still shaking, he noted, but opted to ignore them.A knock came from the bathroom door. 

“Miles?Are you there?” It was Dustin.Miles’ hands paused, but the moment passed quickly and he flipped the loudspeakers on anyway.A loud pang of feedback rang through the office.Miles figured that it could be heard around the entire prison. “ _Edgeworth!”_ Prince called again, this time banging on the door.Miles was already moving the microphone of the speakers closer to the turntable, pressing the ‘start’ button.Immediately the disk of vinyl began to spin, and warm orchestral sounds started ringing through the office, and by association, the entire grounds of Shawshank.  

Outside of the office, it was as if all life stopped as soon as the soprano began to sing.Any movement had been stilled either out of surprise, shock, or entrancement.For some, it was the first time that they had heard music in years—possibly decades.For others, it was a confusing few moments, listening to two Italian women singing in a different language.  

For Phoenix, in the wood shop, it was heart-wrenching.It had been nine years since he had heard something so beautiful.Before he knew it, his eyes were stinging.He bit down hard on the soft flesh inside his mouth to keep the tears back.With every passing note, his ears drank the music in.He had no idea what the women were singing about—in fact, he didn’t want to know.There was something about the mystery of the two Italians.Later, he would reflect that knowing what the women were saying would only kill the magic behind the music.

For Miles, the Sull’aria was magic.He sat in the office, all protests made by Dustin Prince drowned out by the volume of both the music and the memories of his father.When the duo soprano parts split onto different lines, his heart squeezed tightly.He could remember his father singing the aria to him for the rest of that summer.Of course, it hadn’t been in the right key and half of the words were butchered into Italian-English, but the sounds of the proper words only strengthened the memories of the deceased.His entire body ached at the memories.  

“ _Edgeworth,”_ a deep voice came from the direction of the door, and Miles started forward, leaning the chair back into a normal seated position.His head darted up to the direction of his name to see Warden von Karma standing on the other side of it.The man’s knuckles were white and tense where they rapped against glass. “Open the door.” 

Miles folded his hands on the desk, unsure what to do.Not ten minutes ago, he would have killed to hear the song.He looked up to the man standing on the other side of the door, his hand inching toward the volume as if to turn it down.von Karma watched him, a sinister smile twitching his lips.In that moment, Miles felt a pang of hatred toward the man.He grasped the knob and turned the volume up, drowning out von Karma’s objections.Miles felt a swell of pride when von Karma’s face all but turned purple and he turned away from the door, barking something to the guards. 

Lang took his place, taking a moment to glare at the warden before turning.He rapped on the door three short times with his baton.  

“Come on Edgeworth,” he urged, and Miles simply swiveled his back to the door, folding his hands in his lap.The aria was coming to a close, and he wanted to hear all of it undisturbed.The sound of breaking glass came from behind him, but he refused to flinch even when the door was thrust open.As the last few chords of the song came to a close, the needle was ripped away from the vinyl.Miles felt two strong arms push him forward and off of the chair, face first into the wooden floor.He was powerless to stop the record smashing on the floor behind him.It was hard to find a cell in him that cared—the aria had dredged up feelings than he had prepared for, but one thing was for certain.Gregory Edgeworth had performed the best version of that aria in Miles’ memory.It was with a heavy heart that he realized that he had barely appreciated it for all it was.

* * *

 

Miles served a month in the hole for his pseudo concierto.Some days, Phoenix had to remind himself that it had happened at all, but Klavier was quick to remind him.Ever the sucker for music, true to his name, Phoenix would muse.Every once in a while, he would catch the blond chasing Apollo around the yard singing the tune.Phoenix could do nothing but wait for the return of his friend, but the sight of his friends enjoying the story so much brightened his outlook.Already the music was fading in his mind.He’d never had an ear for that stuff, anyway, but the few notes and tunes he did remember just reminded him all the more of Edgeworth.  

It was a Sunday when they released Miles from solitary confinement.Phoenix had been looking forward to seeing the man so much over the past month that, when Miles appeared in the cafeteria, it was all the brunette could do to stay in his seat.  

“Hey, maestro!” Diego grinned when he was in earshot. The side of the table facing away from the man turned.Phoenix noted the grin that spread across Miles’ face.  

“Good to see you, Edgeworth,” he nodded, and Miles stopped for a moment.In that time, Phoenix was able to take in the stubble that had spread across his jaw (it matched his hair almost to a T).  

“You as well,” Miles nodded and sat across from where Phoenix sat, which was, coincidentally, right next to the Butz.

“You couldn’t have played something better, like Hank Williams or something?” Larry deadpanned, leaning over his arm.Miles simply returned the jab with a chuckle. 

“They dragged me out of the office before I could tack requests, sorry,” he smiled.From his end of the table, Simon piped up next.

“How was solitary?” He asked, no stranger to it himself.

“Easiest time I ever served,” Miles nodded at him, acknowledging his presence.  

“Bullshit, there’s no such thing as easy time,” Diego laughed.  

“I had the music with me,” the gray-haired man argued, finally taking a bite of his meal.

“Wait, you mean they let you take that record player in with you?” Gumshoe leaned forward in his seat, like he was watching Miles with every inch of his retinas.The other man simply shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. He tapped his temple.

“I had it in here,” he replied, before moving his hand to his heart. “And in here.” The table went quiet.If there had been a man present to understand, it would have been Klavier, but he was busy finishing his mopping duties, so Miles was faced with blank stares.  

“What do you mean?” Phoenix was the first to ask.He was wiggling his fork between his thumb and forefinger.  

“Haven’t you ever felt that way about music?” Miles asked, looking around the table to see a few shakes of the head. “It-it-,” he stopped, fumbling for the words to say.When he looked back up at Phoenix, the grey eyes were tighter, like he was holding the weight of the world in front of him. “It’s a reminder that there’s something outside of concrete and chain link,” he explained.His voice was quieter, now. “That there’s an entire world out there; that there’s something deep inside of you that—no matter how hard they try—they can’t take it from you.It gives you hope.”

Phoenix watched Miles closely, his blue eyes narrowing at every word.He pointed his fork at the man. “Be careful, Edgeworth, hope is a dangerous thing,” he warned.

“What are you talking about?” Miles shot back, anger rising in his voice.Phoenix leaned forward.

“Hope will drive you crazy.It gives you some strange idea that there’s a chance you’ll ever get out of here, but here’s the reality, Edgeworth: we’re here for life.You are, and so am I.Hope will lie to you, and it’ll drive you crazy.Those are the facts, and you’d best be getting used to that little notion.” As Phoenix spoke, his voice grew lower, as if acid was lining the edges of it.While he had been speaking, Miles had watched him carefully, but now, he straightened in his seat, anger flaring that Phoenix was missing his point.

“You mean like the Judge got used to it?” He asked, and Phoenix recoiled as if he had been slapped.He threw his spoon onto his tray and swung his legs out from underneath the table.  

Miles watched Phoenix stalk away from the table with shoulders hunched.His grey eyes never left the man until he disappeared behind the partition where the trays were dropped off.Miles could feel the eyes of the other men on him, but his gaze stayed where he had watched Wright leave, his chest tight with what he could only identify as empathy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the biggest fight but....a;lkfgjherg. Let me know what you think!


	8. The Pink Princess, pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes forgiveness isn't a huge production. Sometimes it's like pulling on an old shoe and walking with it, and realizing that this shoe might mean more than just something you see every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last filler chapter ahoy! This is so small, but it was a really natural ending spot and I don't want to rush the relationship and I wanted it up and running and--  
> I'm sorry. It's really short. Like, maybe 1.700 words if I'm lucky. But I promise this is the last short chapter of the story! From now on excrement starts hitting the oscillator and everything is going to be great.  
> That being said, I have two more days at my part time job and then I start up with a full time job, so...less writing time. I'll get as much as I can done, but I'll be teaching and seeing some of my best friends that I only get to see once a year, so I might have to prioritize. I apologize for the wait that is coming around the mountain.

On December 31, 1948, Phoenix Wright was ushered down five different hallways than he was used to.He had only made the trek once before, five years prior.It was the same day that Miles Edgeworth had had arrived at the prison, he mused as he was guided.He and the gray-haired man hadn’t talked much since the Judge’s letter arrived; in fact, Phoenix hadn’t spoken much to anyone in the past month, something for which he felt guilty.He’d tried, many times, but every time he’d had to bite his lips together to keep himself in fear of something terrible, or turning the conversation back on himself.  It wasn't that he didn't feel grief about the Judge...he just wanted everything to go back to normal. 

The door in front of him was pushed open and he was greeted with four unfamiliar faces.He was ushered forward to a seat in front of the table.The room was relatively unchanged; besides a chair and face missing from the mix, the only thing that was significantly different from five years prior were the plants.Phoenix took an extra moment to examine the dark green leaves intently.The knowledge that the parole hearing room held live plants was probably the best news he’d heard since October.  

“Phoenix Wright?” The man from behind the table asked, and the brunette’s head shot up.He wondered what he must have looked like, coming off of an hour of sleep from the night before and trying to find some meaning in the leaf of a plant.  

“That’s me,” Phoenix replied, shaking his head to get rid of his thoughts and folding his hands in his lap.He was met with stares.  

“Our information says here that you’ve served ten years of a life sentence.” Phoenix was grateful that, when the ‘ten years’ came out of the man’s mouth, he managed to keep his body stock still. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” Phoenix nodded quickly.HIs right thumb started twitching over his left pointer finger.His shoulder muscles started twitching where, a month and a half ago, Edgeworth had placed his own hand.Phoenix bit down on his lower lip.Out of everything to start remembering at a time like this.  

“And do you feel like you have been rehabilitated?” The same man asked, and Phoenix nodded.He had known this day was coming and had ultimately spent the past few days rehearsing the same lines he had said the last time.He made sure to pause, and to not move from where he sat.  

“Yes,” he rubbed his thumb over his hand.“I’ve thought long and hard about what I did, and there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t feel regret.” He was met with blank stares, so he kept pushing on. “I’m a changed man, and that’s the honest truth.”

At least this time, Wright wasn’t surprised whenthere was a red ‘REJECTED’ stamped over his name.

“Ten years,” he muttered to himself when he was back in the yard.He was leaning against the bleachers again, his arms crossed over one another and chin ducked into his forearms.  

“It sounds strange when you put it that way,” a voice came from behind him, and Phoenix turned to see Edgeworth standing a few paces away.The brunette tensed, waiting for some sort of verbal lashing.  

The newcomer seemed just as timid, keeping his distance from Wright as if he were a deadly animal.  They kept eye contact, this time.  Miles looked the same as he always did.  The stubble that had grown on his face in confinement was neatly shaven away, much to Phoenix's dismay.  Even though the last time he had really looked at Miles had been a train wreck, he had to admit that he didn't mind the facial hair.  Phoenix's eyebrow rose to his hairline.

“How does that sound strange?” Phoenix asked.He stood straight up to face the man in what he hoped to look like a nonaggressive stance.

“Well,” Miles must have taken the gesture for what it was, because he stopped looking like an animal trainer whose critter was having a mean streak and took a few steps closer.  He leaned on the bleachers himself. “If you have been here for ten years…then that means I have been here for five.”

For a moment, Phoenix could do nothing but blink at the man.It was true, he had expected something a bit more abrasive after months of wallowing in self-pity, but for things to feel just as… _normal_ as they had before the Judge left had sounded almost too good to be true.  Perhaps he stared a bit too long, because Edgeworth turned to him when the silence dragged on with a puzzled look.  

“Are you all right?” Miles brought him out from his reverie. “I did not think that basic mathematics would have been lost on you.”

With a laugh, Phoenix joined him in leaning on the metal once more. The two stared out into the yard in a shared moment of silence.

“It wasn’t _lost_ ,” Phoenix grumped. “It was…just…” Miles turned to face him.Phoenix found it almost impossible to look the man in the eye as he continued. “I just…” there were so many things he wanted to apologize for; for snapping at him right when he’d been let out of solitary confinement, for avoiding him and everyone else for the past months…”…didn’t think that you’d want to keep speaking to me.” It was childish, he knew, especially for a twenty-nine year old man. “Is that dumb?”

Miles hesitated. “Not foolish, I would say,” he murmured after the pause. “I understood then, as I do now.You are a man who has lost someone who helped you through many things.I can only assume that you view the Judge as a father figure.” Phoenix looked up in surprise, a silent ‘how did you know’ in his eyes, surrounded by a hint of thankfulness.Miles caught the expression and let out a short laugh through his nose. “I talked to Armando about it.I figured you could stand to have someone snoop on you, once in a while.” Phoenix’s lips turned up in a grin.  

“What else did he tell you?” Phoenix asked.He felt a bit too nervous for a casual conversation.  Diego had seen the worst sides of Phoenix Wright in the past ten years, and for better or for worse, Phoenix had to credit Miles for doing some great detective work.  

“He told me that you went to school for art,” Miles replied, lifting up the back of his shirt with one hand and reaching back with the other.Blue eyes followed Miles’ hands only to see a small leather-bound book protruding from the elastic waistline. “I wanted to give you something as a ‘happy rejection day’ present, as I'm told today is for you.” Miles held out the book to him.Phoenix took it with shaking hands, creaking it open to see nothing but blank pages.   _A sketchbook,_  the button clicked in his brain. “I hope you’ll forgive me; I had to go through one of your competitors to keep it a surprise.”

Phoenix opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find some words to thank Edgeworth.Before he could get anything out, the gray-haired man held up on hand to stop him. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Wright.All I ask is that you start using your talents again.”

That night, Phoenix would replay those words in his head, over and over, slowly tracing the spine of his new book. The pencil Miles had slipped in between the pages felt heavy in his breast pocket.For a moment he could almost feel it burning through the dense fabric.A heavy sigh broke through his lips and he pulled it out, flipping to the first of many empty pages.When the pencil hit the paper, he felt like he could breathe again; like muscles that he hadn’t used in a long time were suddenly being flexed and allowing more air into his lungs.How the air got there through his fingers, he was uncertain.When the shapes on the pages turned into something a bit more legible than just a basic facial structure, he couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised to see Miles Edgeworth’s profile side-eyeing him.He stopped, blinking down at the familiar face.Two thoughts ran through his mind, almost immediately after each other.

 _Boy, am I out of practice,_ he thought, then:

_You’re in deep, Nick.Real deep._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Bon Jovi plays in the distance))


	9. The Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the outside, Miles Edgeworth was an honest man. It wasn't until he was sent to prison that he became a criminal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oi vey I'm so freaking ready to post this. As I figured, camp is brutal (but SO FREAKING REWARDING I think I adopted five people last week and that was week one) and I don't have much time to write, so here's a longer one to bide your time. After this point, the shit hits the fan and I'm not gonna be around much. I'll see you late August if nothing else!

After three years of writing six letters per week to the senator of Maine, Miles Edgeworth’s requests for a new library built in Shawshank were heard, and the first bricks of the library were laid.It was a quick process with all the labor that von Karma had at his disposal, and many of the inmates weren’t going to argue against getting a few more hours of free time to get some more fresh air.

In 1951, the final brick was secured.von Karma went public with his would-be famous ‘Inmates With Inspiration’ speech, insinuating that he had cracked senate himself with the idea, and that, given a bit more motivation, inmates would be able to be rehabilitated better if they were given real-life opportunities for education.Miles had been told that the wood shop had been busy for almost a year making furniture and flooring for the new addition to the prison, and they were consequently carried from one side of the prison to another.Donated books were shipped in by truck this time around (not some dilapidated car driven by one little church quilter) and unloaded in an hour.Miles could only sit back and watch, his hands buzzing at his sides and palms sweating with anticipation. He’d been waiting for this for a very long time, and to see it finally come to fruition only made his jitters worse.He’d requested that the entire gang be the only ones to be trusted with sorting and shipping the books, something for which von Karma had accepted (after a few debates).Miles swallowed his discomfort at how much von Karma was letting him get away with.The feeling that something bigger was right around the corner coupled with the fact that von Karma _had_ starred in his nightmares more than once gave the man a bit more anxiety than he was willing to admit.  

“Hey Edgey!That’s the last box!” Larry’s voice brought him out from his thoughts, and Miles turned to the truck to see the driver holding out a smaller box.He took a few steps forward and placed his hands on either side of the cardboard and gratefully took it from the driver.The man nodded, touching the brim of his hat before climbing into his truck and driving away.Miles waited until he was a good ways off before turning back to the library— _his library_ —and stepping inside.  

The gang was already sitting in a circle among the stacks of boxes.Apollo had cracked one open already, pulling out books in every sort of condition and examining their titles.Miles felt himself smile at the picture of Klavier reading over the brunette’s shoulder, helping him pronounce a few foreign words.Picking up his newly-gifted clipboard (thanks to a certain Officer Lang), Edgeworth sat at the head of the circle and placed his box next to him.For the past few months, he had gone through the old library books and sorted them, coming up with a few categories he hoped to find in the boxes around them.He looked up to see everyone staring at him.

“I suppose it will be easiest to open one box at a time,” he cleared his throat. “Gumshoe, Blackquill.I would like you two to start sorting them by category.”

“Sure,” Gumshoe nodded and stood immediately, followed closely behind Simon, who stopped to nudge Taka’s beak.von Karma had been in good graces after the Judge had left and let Miles continue to look after the bird, but the hawk hadn’t taken to anyone as quickly as he did to Simon.Before he knew it, Taka was sitting on Simon’s shoulder like he used to sit on the Judge’s head.  

“Any books that are miscellany will go on the old cart, and we can read through them later.For now, Mr. Justice, it looks like you have started with yours already?”

Apollo jumped at his name, but nodded and started unloading them.“Uh, we’ve got ‘Car Parts and Other Engines’ by Fred Erickson.”

“How-to’s and hobbies,” Miles nodded to Gumshoe while he scribbled down the name under its correct category.Larry was already digging through the open box, holding a moderately large book in both hands. 

“The Count of Monte Cristo,” Larry squinted at the next words. “By…Alexandre…Dum…as.Dumb ass,” he decided, and snickered.

“Dumas,” Klavier corrected from where he sat, with a grin. “Dumb ass.”

“Hey, now,” Larry snapped, his face turning red as the rest of the group laughed.  

“You’d like it,” Miles offered, writing it down. “It’s about a prison break.”

“Shouldn’t that go in How-to’s and hobbies?” Simon asked as he took the book.Another round of laughter rang through the group, and Miles had to remind himself that, though Blackquill was one of the most quiet men he’d ever met, his sense of humor was priceless.  

* * *

 

Fueled by the new library, time flew for Miles.He spent every minute that he could filing, sorting, and organizing the books on the new shelves.There was so much work to be done that he was allowed to keep the gang on as assistants.When he wasn’t putting his new library together, he was working directly under von Karma’s nose; whether it was to keep him under close attention or to continue to make strides like the Judge’s library, Miles was pretty certain he wouldn’t find out.It was strange, really, was the best word he could use to describe it.He was almost positive von Karma would have remembered his last name from the last case his father defended, yet…the warden treated him as if he were nothing more than a ridiculously lucky worm.Not that Miles was minding; he had seen pictures and heard stories of von Karma’s youngest daughter and was eternally grateful that he wasn’t on the receiving end of the man’s ‘good graces’.  

As soon as Miles was moved to work more directly under the warden, however, he was graced with a different kind of work.Instead of only working with payroll, taxes, and the occasional donation from one of von Karma’s friends, Miles found that there was an entire graveyard of skeletons in von Karma’s closet.Dirty deals, money passed under the table for crooked politicians, domestic abuse cover-ups, payoffs to judges to get the wrong men convicted…it was like von Karma had created an entire underbelly throughout the state of Maine in what looked to be his free time.Of course, he would never say that outright to von Karma.It was always a terse smile (closed lips), quick nod, and a ‘yes, sir’ whenever he was asked to do something new.  

So Miles went about using his vast knowledge of the law and financial system of the United States (mostly gained through his father, reading, and what he picked up from Lang, who was growing more and more irritable every day) to keep everything covered up.Mountains of paperwork filled the desk he sat at right outside of von Karma’s office.Mostly, they were papers that funneled the money through seven different banks on their side of the country, debtors of von Karma’s pleas for more time or thanks, and government paperwork for Miles to fill out that von Karma might be able to use his prisoners for free labor.It was a complicated business, sure, but everything was kept straight in one notebook of von Karma’s, which was always locked away with the other paperwork in a safe behind an elegant cross-stitch of Lady Justice.  

Relaying all of the information to Wright, however, Miles thought that the man’s eyes would fall out of their sockets.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Phoenix gawked from the other side of the book shelf.The gray-haired man was just grateful that the books he held hadn’t crashed into the floor. “You funnel the money through _how many_ banks?”

“Seven, and please, Wright, try not to sound like I just told you the moon is made of cheese,” Miles retorted calmly.He removed the newly-gifted glasses (also courtesy of Captain Lang) from his nose and slipped them into his breast pocket.They were stocking the shelves after weeks of sorting.An engraved plaque had just been hung this morning, ‘THE JUDGE’S LIBRARY’ carved into oak.Phoenix looked over his shoulder quickly before gaining his composure.He kept walking with Miles, forgetting to put the books on his side of the shelves. 

“You might as well have, good Lord.” When Miles shot him an annoyed glance, the brunette backtracked and set his books into place.It wasn’t long before he was back across from Edgeworth, suddenly looking extremely worried. “Hey, Edgeworth,” he started, and waited until grey eyes met blue to continue, “Doesn’t this all leave a trail?What if someone catches on?Won’t that lead back to von Karma?To you?”Miles felt something in his chest jump at Wright’s concern, but pushed it back down immediately.

“Of course not,” he shelved his last book and turned the corner, watching Phoenix carefully. “Manfred von Karma might be a son of a bitch,” (Phoenix pulled a double take, not sure if Miles actually cursed or not) “but he’s not a fool.If someone does find an ‘I’ that hasn’t been dotted, it will not lead them to myself, nor the warden.  It will lead them to one Bobby Fulbright.”

Phoenix’s shoulders slumped.He fixed Miles with an incredulous stare that refused to waver. “Bobby Fulbright?What kind of dumb name is that, and who is he?” Miles leaned against the shelf on his left.

“He’s a ghost, a phantom,” Miles deliberated.He was trying to find the best word to describe it.With a look at Wright though, it seemed as thought it would be easiest to play it blunt. “He doesn’t exist.He is a figment of my imagination, created through many different letters to Washington, DC.” 

Phoenix closed the distance between them, turning his head away from Miles to make sure that no one was listening in.The library was relatively quiet for a time when there were supposed to be fifteen other men helping to shelve books.Their shoulders brushed, and an electric spark coursed through Miles’ body at the contact.

“Are you crazy?You can’t just _make up_ a person,” Phoenix hissed.Miles fixed him with a curious face. 

“Everything I have done is perfectly legal,” he argued.When Wright’s face turned from concerned to annoyed, he backtracked. “That is, to say, Robert Fulbright, according to the federal government, was born and raised in Vermont.He moved to Maine and works in banks.He has a birth certificate, driver’s license, social security card, and high school diploma.” As he spoke, Wright leaned away, crossing his arms over his chest.He finally showed an expression other than anger or fear (for which Miles was grateful), and chose impressed instead. 

“You’re shitting me,” Phoenix said.It was a statement rather than a question.

“I assure you, Wright, the only place I defecate is in the toilet,” Miles shot back.He couldn’t help but grin, especially when Phoenix’s eyes lit up in one of his invisible smiles. 

“I can’t believe that this actually works,” he breathed. “So if someone found out Bobby Fulbright is a phantom…”

“The only people who would be able to expose von Karma are me and Captain Lang,” Miles assured him.Phoenix let out a curt laugh.He passed in front of Miles, back to one of the tables where their pile of books sat, shaking his head. 

“Speaking of Lang, what’s going on with him?” Phoenix asked after he’d taken another armful of books.  

“How do you mean?” Miles did the same and followed him to another shelf.  

“He seems…different lately.As in, less violence, more grumbling different,” Phoenix explained.He kept one eye on Miles and another on the books in front of him.Miles paused, trying to come up with words to describe what was going on.He knew what Wright was explaining, yes, but with the way Lang had been acting lately…if he wasn’t careful, he would end up another paper to file on Miles’ desk.  

“He is not happy with the way von Karma’s actions,” Miles chose his words carefully. 

“Well that’s not news.Everyone knows Lang hates nothing more than a few crooked cops.This must be driving him insane.”

“I think so,” Miles nodded grimly.He felt a sickness boiling in the pit of his stomach.Had it not been for Lang, he would still be in the laundry block every day.The bone under his thumb started prickling in anxiousness as the thought that he would still be running from the _Sisters_ ran through his head.He had many things to thank Lang for, and the realization that he could do little in return was certainly unpleasant.  

Before he could make any other comment on the matter, Gumshoe and Armando appeared from around the corner with another box full of new books, talking animatedly about one thing or another.Taka was close to follow, flapping his wings only a few times before he came to a halt on the Judge’s namesake plaque.Miles stopped at the sight and nudged Phoenix with his elbow.The brunette stopped what he was doing and immediately looked up.The sadness Edgeworth had been expecting to see in Phoenix’s never came; instead, the brunette grinned and turned to the gray-haired man.Miles would never say that Wright’s grin faltered—no, he had only seen that man’s grin break a few times—instead, he could only describe it as a flame turning into embers.The joy stayed in his eyes, but his lips came together in a tight-lipped grin.The blue orbs on either side of his nose still glowed with a giddy, childlike excitement that made Miles stop and physically remind himself that, no, Wright was not a five-year-old.Before Miles could take another breath, Gumshoe called Phoenix’s name and the brunette turned away, leaving the afterglow one usually feels right after a bright light is turned off in his wake.  

As Miles returned the glasses to his face, he had to remind himself to breathe.

* * *

 

Xi-Long Lang would never admit that he was an eavesdropper unless directly asked.He had been at his job for almost fifteen years, ten of it spent in the Shawshank penitentiary, and he’d found that whenever something smelled rotten, it was people like Miles Edgeworth who knew, and people like himself who would never find out.So, when he made himself scarce in the library to leave Edgeworth and his friend (Wright, he kept reminding himself, Wright) to speak freely, he made it so that he could still hear what was going on.  

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to find out that he hadn’t just been _wrong_ about Shawshank.By his standards, he was _extremely, utterly,_ and _embarrassingly_ wrong.  

The anger he felt boiling in his chest was enough to send him stalking to von Karma’s door, fists clenched and fingernails digging into his palms.When he knocked twice, they were quick and curt.He was sure that if he were to look himself in the mirror, he would see that his face had turned red as a beet, and his eyes were alit with murder.  

“Enter,” the voice of von Karma came from the other side of the door.Without hesitation, Lang twisted the doorknob and shoved the door open.von Karma was sitting at his desk, scribbling his signature on a few documents.The older man barely looked up at Lang’s entrance. “Captain Lang, I can only assume that your presence here is for a pressing matter, is it not?”

“The money,” was the first thing out of Lang’s mouth.He cursed himself on the inside.Usually he was good about keeping his head, but at the moment, everything was a blur of anger. “You had Edgeworth moved to your assistant to help you start embezzling money from the state.” von Karma met his outburst with a cool indifference. “Am I wrong?”

“Is that a problem, Captain Lang?” A blood vessel popped out on Lang’s forehead.von Karma regarded it cooly, and Lang wondered for a moment if any emotion ran under his pallid skin.  

“Why?” was all the Captain could muster out.The warden paused to let out an exasperated sigh.  

“I intend to do much more than sit behind a single desk for the rest of my life,” von Karma responded.He rose from his chair much like a snake reaching out for food. “I have an agenda to keep, and Miles Edgeworth is exactly the man I need to move forward.” As he spoke, von Karma drew closer to the captain. “You can either be on the agenda, or I will remove you.” For a moment, Lang could do nothing but stare at the warden.In a last ditch crutch on his rage, the captain reached up to his hat and yanked it off the crown of his head.  

“Don’t bother,” he hissed. “I will remove myself.” The cap hit the floor after a moment, and von Karma’s eyes barely fluttered. Turning on his heel, Lang stuck a finger in the old man’s direction. “I would rather go hungry than work for a corrupt worm like you.” His steeled voice was one he’d used to bring countless prisoners to their knees for him before.von Karma’s eyebrow merely twitched.

“As you shall,” he replied.When the door slammed and Lang was halfway down the hallway, Manfred took in a deep sigh. “I have no time for foolery,” he muttered as he returned to his desk.The old leather seat greeted him with a groan, but his fingers were already on the phone.He waited for the rotor to stop moving before holding to receiver to his ear.It only took a few rings before the line connected.

“Hello?” A familiar voice rang on the other side.

“Officer Gant,” von Karma didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I am in need of your assistance.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I'd eventually get Lang out of there...right? Tell me what you think of the new Hadley coming up!


	10. Clay Terran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New faces come to Shawshank and no one is more surprised than Phoenix at how well they fit in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy!  
> Remember when I said it was going to be a busy summer? I wasn't lying, I promise.  
> I worked full time at JoAnn Fabrics for most of the summer, and that was pleasant. For the second half of the summer, I worked full time at a Rock and Roll camp for girls and HOLY CRAP IT WAS SO GREAT. Little females are so inspiring, and it's such an honor to be someone that they actively ask if they can take to school. I just. Teaching little women to be empowered in today's society is my favorite thing on the face of the earth.  
> That being said, school starts tomorrow and I wanted to get this chapter up beforehand. I'm taking 17 credits as well as working at the campus radio station, and on top of that, I will be hosting Bible studies at least four times a week. So I'll be pretty busy.  
> I guess this is a heads-up that chapters will come when they come, and that I will not be abandoning this in the slightest. All of the comments, kudos, and views are so appreciated, thank you all for reading!

When Clay Terran came to Shawshank, it was a sunny day in April of 1952. He was carted in wearing a leather jacket, a black visor, and one of the cockiest attitudes Phoenix had ever seen.  He was a snarky kid, caught up in the rock and roll movement that had taken the country by storm.  By every report, Clay was in for a three-year stretch on account of breaking and entering and he was’t ashamed to say so.  Even better, he took to the wood shop like it was his second nature.

“Come on, fellas!  You’re dragging your feet, makin’ me look bad!” He would always crow to Phoenix, Armando, and Simon.  

Needless to say, he took to the gang almost immediately.  

Usually, Phoenix would be skeptical of someone joining their group almost immediately, and he would have, if not for the response it gained from Apollo.  Almost immediately the two were inseparable; so of course, wherever Apollo went, the newcomer was quick to follow.  It still took Clay a while before he felt comfortable enough to approach the rest of the group on his own, but as soon as he did warm up, everyone wasquick to fall into line with Apollo.  Soon enough, Clay Terran became an almost permanent fixture to the mess hall table, and his ecstatic yet caring personality had made everyone a Clay Terran fan.  Phoenix could usually hear his ‘I’M FINE!’ catchphrase from across the yard whenever he was looking for the man.  

But if there was one thing about Clay that Phoenix appreciated, it was the fact that he was open.  Whenever Phoenix asked the kid a question, the only resistance Clay would give would be a quick ‘why’ before he elaborated.  (Of course when he expressed as much to Edgeworth, the most he got in return was a side glance filled with exasperation.  It wasn’t like Phoenix only trusted people if he knew where they came from…right?)  That brought them to the present moment at the mess hall; Larry had asked Clay what got him convicted.  Clay was in the middle of telling a story (and when he talked, he spoke with his hands, making wild gestures and usually switching his body position to accentuate different characters, so the gang had agreed from day one that he would sit on the ends of the table) when Phoenix rejoined the group.

“So I’ve got this big-ass radio in my hands, right?  And I’m backing it out of the doorway when I hear someone behind me saying ‘drop it, kid!’” The black-haired boy spread his arms like he was really carrying a radio, and puffed up his chest when he was talking like the police officer. “But I just sit there for a second, because obviously I’m screwed either way, and before I do anything, he’s talking again: ‘Son, did you hear me?’ and I say, ‘Yes, yes sir, I did, but if I drop this fuckin’ thing, you’ve got me on destruction of property, too!” By the time he was finished, he had set himself into a fit of laughter, which Nick couldn’t help but laugh along with.  

“That’s what got you into the Vermont pen?” Gumshoe, who had just joined the conversation, waited until he was done laughing before asking.  

“No, that was this time, but I have spent some time there, too.”

“Sounds like you’ve been everywhere,” Armando piped up, pulling his fork through potatoes.  Clay simply shrugged, facing the older man with a level stare.

“Yeah, well, you name it, there’s a chance I’ve been there,” he replied with a smile. “I’ve been in and out since I was sixteen.”

“Maybe you should look into a different career,” Edgeworth stated from the other side of Phoenix.  He had been listening intently to the young man the whole time and was now leaning his cheek on one hand and leveling Clay with a look of his own.  When he was returned with a confused look, he sat straight up. “What I mean is, you don’t make a very good criminal.” From the other side of the table, Apollo hid his laughter behind a closed fist. 

“Hey, shut up, man, you’re supposed to be on my side,” Clay jabbed the brunette lightly in the shoulder. He turned to Edgeworth again. “Okay, mister hotshot, what did _you_ do to wind up in here?”

The two watched each other for a moment.  Miles’ grin slowly spread across his face.  

“Lawyer fucked me,” he replied cooly.  Phoenix choked on his water at that, more surprised to hear Edgeworth curse than anything else.  Clay simply raised an eyebrow, unsure what else to do.  Miles shot a look at Larry before turning back to the head of the table. “Didn’t you hear?  Everyone in Shawshank is innocent.” 

It took a minute for that to sink in, but when it did, Clay couldn’t help but laugh. It seemed hollow, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from getting up and leaving early.  Phoenix kept an eye on him as the whistle for the meal to end was blown. He made sure to follow Clay and Apollo to the assembly line.  As soon as both their trays were in line, Phoenix grabbed the young man by the elbow.  At first, Clay jumped as if he had been electrocuted, but when he saw that it was only Phoenix, he straightened.

“What the hell, man?  That’s like the number-one no-no in prison.” Clay rubbed the back of his elbow while Phoenix sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh, sorry…’man’,” the older man laughed.  

“Is there something wrong?”

“You know, Edgeworth has helped quite a few men test in for their general education degree,” Phoenix informed him.  He watched as the cogs clicked in Clay’s brain. “He might seem unapproachable, but he’s actually a great teacher.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that attitude of his is a great motivator,” Clay muttered, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets. “I’m no learner, Nick.  School and I really don’t get along.”

“Yeah, well, it didn’t get along with me until I had Edgeworth’s help,” Clay’s head shot up, his eyes wide. “Seriously, the man is a good teacher, and a good friend.  He just wants to help.”

The younger man crossed his arms over his chest, “He’s got a funny way of showing it.” They stopped walking long enough for Clay to look up at Nick, “You’re not letting this go until I go talk to him, are you?”

“You got that right, buster.”

“And you’re _sure_ he’s not just giving me crap because he’s a prick?”

Phoenix chuckled. “I promise you, Miles Edgeworth can be the most stubborn prick sometimes, but he really does have a good heart.”

Clay considered the man for a moment before letting out a deep sigh. “Fine, I’ll go talk to your boyfriend.” Before Phoenix could even sputter, Clay’s pointer finger was in his face. “But only because Apollo likes him, too.” He retracted his hand replaced it to crossing over his chest again. “And because I’ve got a little girl on the outside.  She don’t deserve to have a daddy who’s in and out all the time.  Only those reasons, Nick.”  At that, he stormed off into the swarm of inmates.  

“He-he’s not my boyfriend,” Phoenix muttered under his breath to no one in particular.

* * *

 

It had been almost a year since Miles had decided that the library was his favorite place in all of Shawshank.  It might have been because he had built it, sure, but he was almost positive it was because he was among book spines and the musty smell of the pages for hours upon end.  It was comforting to him to spend time at his desk with a good book, whether or not he had read it previously.  He was currently in the middle of a noir-esque novel.  The chair underneath him was about as comfortable as he could possible ask for in the prison, and to make it even better, it left room for him to cross his ankles underneath the seat.  Deciding that he was absolutely content, he pushed his glasses higher up on his nose to look around his library.

His library.  He sometimes still had problems believing that it had actually become a reality.  Even with Taka flying around every once in a while, it was the most peaceful place he could imagine.  He took another deep breath before setting the book down.

Even the most peaceful of moments couldn’t hide the fact that he still had work to do.

At first, Miles had insisted that the inmates keep his library pristine and put each book they borrowed away.  That had lasted all of two days before he’d found an abandoned cart in the mess hall.  A few pieces from his legal pad and a magic marker later, he’d made himself a ‘book return’ cart, which he’d asked everyone to place their books on before leaving the room.  He turned to the cart now, running his hand over a few worn down spines before grabbing the handle and starting his rounds.  He was always surprised when he was putting the books away.  The shelves in the library were masterly crafted; and although Wright would never admit to it, Miles had guessed that the man had put a lot of effort into making sure they were perfect (given how often he had urged for the movers to be careful when they were being installed).  Miles felt his lips twinge upwards at the memory of the brunette buzzing around the construction site and making sure that everyone was treating his shelves with respect.  

“Uhm, Mister Edgeworth?” A voice startled him out of the memory and he looked over his shoulder to see Clay Terran standing a few feet behind him.  As soon as his breathing calmed, Miles held more tightly to his books and turned back to the shelf. 

“I’m not sure if the ‘Mister’ is necessary, Clay.” He turned his head to the young man. “Just Edgeworth is fine.”

“Oh,” Clay had his hands stuffed into his pockets when he moved forward. “Thanks.”

“Is there something I can help you with?  I’m sure Wright and Armando didn’t help you sneak out of the wood shop for nothing, and as you probably know, Captain Gant isn’t the most forgiving when it comes to delinquents.”  It wasn’t a lie.  Ever since Lang had walked out on the good von Karma, Damon Gant had wasted no time making himself known to be just as pleasant, if not worse than his predecessor. At that, the younger turned even more red.  For a while, Miles had been skeptical if that was even possible.  Clay stopped when he was five feet away from Miles’ left arm.  From the corner of his eye, Miles could see that he was gnawing on his lower lip.  

“You were right about earlier,” the boy confessed, finally meeting Miles’ eyes. “I was wondering if…if you’d help me get my high school education.”

“I’m sorry, Clay, but I don’t work with losers,” came the gray-haired man’s quick response.

“Hey, I am _not_ a loser,” Clay retorted, subconsciously taking a step forward and pointing an accusing finger at Edgeworth’s face. He older man waited until it was retracted before he responded.

“Then we’re going to do this all the way,” Miles answered, turning to face the young man head-on.  The books he was holding in his hand made a loud _thump_ when they hit the cart. “There’s no halfsies, no ‘just kidding’, or turning back.  Okay?”

“Y-yeah, sure,” Clay nodded.  Miles noted with some regret that he had scared the boy back a couple of feet.  Clearing his throat, the older nudged his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose and straightened. “The thing is…” Clay regained his full attention at that. “…I don’t read so good.”

Miles bit down on the inside of his lip and let out a long breath through his nose. 

“So well,” he corrected.  When he was reset with nothing but a blank question mark of a look, he softened. “You don’t read _so well_.  We’ll get to that.”

* * *

 

Anyone who had told Clay that he would have an easy time of learning under Miles Edgeworth was a damn, dirty liar, he decided by day two.  The face of a certain Phoenix Wright came to mind first, but Clay had no problems spreading the blame farther.  Edgeworth started him off small, on his ABCs and simple sentence structure, and from there, he turned to basic nouns and verbs.  It took two years, and if he was being completely honest, Clay had been lost the first time Miles introduced nouns to him, but he kept moving through it.  Every time he was seen by the rest of the crew, he was either nose-deep in a book, tracing over Edgeworth’s penmanship in a notebook, or writing out practice sentences.  It would have been quite endearing, if not for how much it obviously bothered Apollo.  Nick had tried to ask Edgeworth about it, but like most other things, the man had been quite oblivious.  A few bad ideas later, Phoenix simply decided to go to the source.

“Apollo,” he caught the young man one afternoon in the yard.  It was a rare moment when he was walking by himself, and the older man held out a piece of chewing gum to him.  Apollo’s eyebrows rose but he took the offering with a nod. 

“What’s up, Nick?” he asked before stuffing the gum in his cheek.

“I’m just checking in,” Phoenix shrugged, taking a piece of gum for himself. “How is everything going?”

Apollo paused, looking up at the older man inquisitively. “What do you mean?  Everything is going about the same as it always does.”

“Mhm,” Phoenix hummed. He chewed on his stick of gum in silence, watching Apollo think. 

“Well, I suppose that I’m happy for Clay,” the younger man decided after a moment. “I mean, he’s always talking about how he wanted to be a space scientist or something when he was younger, and I haven’t seen him put a book down since Edgeworth took him on, so…”

“It’s a good thing?”

The smile Apollo gave him was so bright that Phoenix couldn’t help but smile in return. “Yeah, it is!  He’s really smart, I just…I don’t think that anyone’s really given him a chance, so…” he stopped for a moment to gnaw on his lower lip again. “Thanks, Nick.  For talking him into trying it.”

“It’s no problem, Apollo, really,” Phoenix insisted, but Apollo just shook his head.

“It’s going to be so good for him, when he gets out.  He keeps telling me that his daughter is a huge space fan like him and he wants to get her into a college, and…and…” When Apollo looked back up at him, Phoenix realized with a shot of happiness that he was seeing _normality_ in the young man’s brown eyes. “And he says when I get out, he’s going to make sure we live next to each other.” Phoenix’s eyebrows rose to his hairline.  He adjusted the hat on top of his head with a long sigh and a grin. 

“You sound like you’re a lot happier, Apollo.”

There was a long silence that ensued.  The older man had to look down to make sure that Apollo was still there. 

“I’m Apollo Justice, and I’m fine,” Apollo nodded firmly.  Phoenix looked down in surprise to hear Clay’s signature phrase coming from his friend. 

“That’s Clay’s phrase if I’ve ever heard one,” he mused.  Apollo’s face flushed red and he rubbed the back of his head. 

“W-well, I guess I have been hanging around him a lot…and he’s been saying it so much since his final test is next week. He’s been pretty stressed.”

“Is it really?” Phoenix asked, crossing his arms over his chest.  

“Yep, and I’ll be damned if Edgeworth isn’t giving him a run for his money.  How did you ever get your GED with him?”

“Lots and lots of deep breathing,” Phoenix laughed. “But I have zero doubts that Clay will flake on it.”

* * *

 

Miles had gone to many lengths to make sure that the library was absolutely silent for the day of Clay’s exam.  He’d bribed a few inmates with extended time using the record players, but mostly, he’d had to be a little more creative.  For example, he’d given Wright the job of shushing newcomers on the way in, and Larry had been banished outside for all of the free time.  Miles had set an alarm clock at the beginning of the test and then lost himself in one of the novels he had picked from the shelf.  It was a different one from the last time he’d had an ounce of free time, this one about a factory man in love with a rich girl.  Clay, sitting on the other side of the table from him, was currently glaring at the clock with pencil in hand and test in the other.  In the past two hours, he had wracked his brain for every type of knowledge he had ever learned in his life.  By now, he remembered every Captain America, Batman and Superman comic book he had ever read, every street address he’d learned from a couple of his sources, and the name of the dog he had lived by when he was five.  

He had never hated the name ‘Starbuck’ as much as he did in that moment.  

The obnoxious ringing of an alarm clock pulled him most unceremoniously out of his mid-exam reverie.  Miles set his book down and turned off the alarm calmly, meeting Clay’s surprised-deer expression with a level stare.  

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is,” he tried, watching as Clay’s hands balled up around the pencil and paper.

“Yeah, it’s worse,” Clay mashed out of his teeth.  Miles heard Wright’s chair turn around in the entryway. “I didn’t get a single damn question right.”

“Let’s see how your scores do before we make those kind of statements,” Miles reasoned, but Clay was already holding onto his test with white knuckles. “In my experience, you score more points that you—,”

“You wanna know how many points I got?” Clay shot out of his seat, knocking it off its feet and crashing onto the floor.  By then, his test had been crumpled into a ball.  The waste basket creaked a few times with the amount of force the ball hit its sides. “Two points!  Right there!” He turned on his heel back to Miles with fire in his eyes. “Two goddamn points, right in that fucking basket.” He turned and grabbed at the hair on the back of his neck. “Cats running up trees, ‘i’ goes after ‘e’ except after ‘c’, but then there’s words like ‘weird’ and ‘neighbor’ and I don’t _fuckin_ ’ care what a pronoun is, but I know that it’s a _load of crap_ and I’m _never_ gonna get _anywhere_ because _I am a loser_.”  He turned to Edgeworth finally, shoulders heaving and on the brink of tears. “Okay?  You were right.  I’m a loser.  I hope you’ve enjoyed your _massive_ waste of time.” With that, Clay stormed past Phoenix and out the door with a huff.

Silence stretched on in Clay’s absence.  Miles sat completely still for a moment, processing everything that had just occurred.  With a sigh, he removed his glasses. 

Taking a deep breath, Miles pushed his chair out from the table and stood slowly.  His footsteps were measured and careful as he made his way over to the waste basket and crouched over.  The test fit in the palm of his hand perfectly, and when he unfolded the paper, it crinkled worse than he’d heard anything in his life.  He winced as he straightened it all out, pressing the corners into a respectable look. As he walked forward into the entryway, he held it out to the man sitting at behind the desk.

“Wright, do you still have the envelope I prepared?” His voice was small but calm.

“Uhm,” Phoenix choked, staring down at the paper and then back up to Edgeworth. “Yes?  Are you okay?” The gray eyes widened at the question, and Miles coughed into his fist.  

“I am fine, thank you,” Miles nodded.  He waited until the brunette did the same. “Just because the children are throwing a tantrum does not mean that I am distressed.  These things happen, Wright.” Phoenix smiled. “Please be sure to mail that in at your earliest convenience.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know Gant isn't mentioned much here, but he does have a bigger role to play later. Let me know what you think!


	11. DL-6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For convicted felons, the truth is never pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...remember when I said that I wouldn't update for a while?  
> I was lying. Have some feelings. I have been waiting for a long time to write this part and the next part out. 
> 
> The first week of classes went well, I have a lot of time in between to work on things, and the busy schedule keeps me inspired, I suppose. At least for the first couple of weeks. Until it gets gross. So I should be okay for a while to update soon. 
> 
> Once again, thank you, thank you, thank you for your comments and kudos, they really really cheer me up when I'm feeling gross. Also, if you have one, message me on tumblr, I like making new friends! (Yay shameless self promotion!)

“I feel bad, you know?” Clay sighed.He was sitting on the edge of a workbench in the wood shop.It was two days after Clay had walked out on Edgeworth, and Phoenix had managed to wrangle two Cokes from one of the guards.Ever since that day, the young man had been sulking around the yard with his hands shoved in his pockets.His constant statements of ‘I’m fine’ were less and less enthusiastic, and whenever he saw Edgeworth coming down the line, he was nowhere to be found.Phoenix was glad that he at least got to see the young man in the wood shop (now that he was no longer slaving over a few sets of books). “He spent all that time on me for nothing.” 

“I can assure you, Edgeworth doesn’t think of it that way,” Phoenix reassured him, though he didn’t sound as confident as he desperately wanted to. 

“Yeah, but I still feel like I let him down.All that work and I didn’t even finish the test.” Biting down hard on his upper lip, Phoenix simply nodded. 

“If it’s any consolation, Edgeworth does still want to be friends with you,” Phoenix offered.When the response in return was a curt snort, he turned around and leaned against one of the tables. “What was that for?”

“Nothing, I just…” the young man let out a long sigh. “I know what it’s like, you know?To put a lot of effort into something and have nothing come out of it.I just feel bad, okay?”

“Fair enough,” Phoenix shrugged.He took a quick sip of his Coke before finally letting out a long sigh. “Just so you know that he isn’t mad at you or anything.He’s just…bad with feelings.”

“You’re telling me,” Clay snorted and took another drink.Halfway through, his brow furrowed and he looked at the older man with a confused look. “What did he even do to get in here?I know you have that whole dorky ‘everybody’s innocent here’ but I’m really fucking curious.”

“Well, it’s funny you should ask that…” Phoenix mused.He opened his mouth to start rattling off the story when his breath caught. “Really, no on tells the story better than Edgeworth himself…” he mused. “Then again, it took me eight years to actually get the story out of him.”

“Eight years?”

“He doesn’t talk about it much,” Phoenix shrugged. “It’s understandable.” Clay sat more forward at that, prompting the man to keep talking. With a sigh, Phoenix readjusted how he was seated on the table and set his Coke down. “When he first told me-,”

_It was outside in the yard, right before dinner.Phoenix and Miles were sitting together at their usual spot on the bleachers.Instead of sitting across from each other over a game of checkers like they were used to, both men were seated on the edge of their seats with elbows rested on their thighs.Miles had asked Phoenix there not five minutes earlier.He had told Phoenix earlier that day that he was finally ready to talk about his nightmares, and what had happened eight years prior.Miles could feel eyes on him from everywhere except for the man sitting next to him, for which he was grateful.He took a steadying breath and removed the glasses from his nose before he clasped his hands together again._

_‘“It was eleven years ago that this happened,” He’d started with a shaky sigh. “I was going into my third year of classes at university.I wanted to be a lawyer, just like my father.I believe I was about to turn twenty-one, and my father and I had just finished celebrating Christmas when he received this new client.There was a terrible snow storm that day.” Phoenix nodded along with the man’s baritone voice.He would never admit it, but when Miles had told him that he was ready to talk about his father, Phoenix was nothing less of ecstatic.Now that he was finally sitting next to Miles, their knees brushing against each other, he was having a hard time believing that it was really happening._

_“To be completely honest,” Miles continued, “I don’t remember what the case was about.Murder, most likely.All I remember is that I was sitting in the gallery for most of it…and von Karma was prosecuting.”_

_“von Karma?” Phoenix asked, utterly disbelieving.Sure, he’d been in Shawshank when von Karma had first arrived, but he’d known little to nothing about the man.Truth be told, Phoenix had been trying to stay under von Karma’s radar for most of his life.As far as he knew, he was doing one hell of a job at it._

_“The man was a very gifted prosecutor before was the warden here,” Miles explained. “He had never lost a court case.My father was utterly nervous when he learned who he was facing.” With a deep sigh, Miles raised his head to find Gant standing at the gate like he was a vulture. “To be completely honest, I had no doubts that my father would win.But…the most I should have hoped for was a penalty.Which he did win, by the way,” Miles clarified. “It was the first mark on von Karma’s perfect record, I remember that clearly.After court was adjourned, my father was ecstatic.I remember him saying ‘I might not have won the case, Miles, but at least I got to let that von Karma know what I really think of him.’” Suddenly, the gray haired man turned somber.Phoenix looked over to make sure that he was all right.His head was ducked and one of his hands was pressed tightly over his mouth. “That was the last thing he ever said to me that wasn’t telling me that everything was going to be all right,” he all but whispered._

_“Edgeworth…” Phoenix started, as if to tell him that he didn’t have to keep going, but Miles waved his concern aside._

_“Please, Wright,” at that, Miles finally caught the brunette’s eyes.His gray ones were nothing short of pleading. “I have kept this in for eleven years, and if I do not tell you now…” he sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll explode or not.”_

_“As long as you’re sure,” Phoenix muttered.He let Miles return to his posture he had been sitting in before._

_“We were waiting to get in an elevator, to go home,” Miles continued.He was quieter now, and Phoenix scooted closer so he could listen.The electric shock that ran up his leg from the physical contact was squashed into the back of his head. “There was a security guard with us.His name was Yanni Yogi, and when we were almost to our floor, the snow got so bad that the power went out.Everything went dark in the elevator, and my father looked right at me and told me to be calm.”Burying his face in his hands, Miles sounded desolate as he went on. “I don’t remember much, but I do know that he was just as scared as me.It was quiet for a long time.The security guard tried calling for backup on his radio, and then the firemen, but no one was answering.” When he looked up at Phoenix, the brunette felt a pang of sadness wash over him.He would have given anything to take away the sorrow that lined Miles’ features. “We were in there for so long, Wright.The air went stale after what felt like an hour, and before I knew it, I…I was feeling lightheaded.” Miles looked straight ahead again, hoping that he could forget it just by willing it so. “The security guard started to panic, and I didn’t blame him.Not at all.He started screaming for help, for someone—anyone—to come let us out._

_“When my father tried to calm him down, Yogi turned his fear on him. ‘_ You’re breathing my air, you’re breathing my air!’ _he kept shouting over and over again.I…I thought he was going to kill my father.” The gray eyes closed, and Phoenix could hear a hard gulp from where he sat. “There was a thud at my feet.I picked up the object and found it was a gun.I was so confused, but so scared, and…right before I passed out, I threw the pistol in their direction.” Miles looked up with a thinly-masked look of desperation on his face. “All I wanted was for him to leave my father alone, but when I woke up in the hospital…a nurse told me._

_“They found my father dead a few minutes later, when the power came back on.He had one bullet wound in his chest, and the Yogi’s pistol was found with no fingerprints and two bullets missing.It was a quick trial, the first time around.Yanni Yogi was found guilty, and he was convicted almost right on the spot.”_

_“Wait,” Phoenix interrupted, brow furrowed. “If he was found guilty…why are you in here?”_

_“Three years later, he hired a lawyer to reopen the case,” Miles explained, “with me as the accused.” Even remembering that day was emotional for Miles.He paused with a hand over his mouth for a moment. “Not even my defense attorney believed in me…I was found guilty within half an hour.”_

Back in the real time, Phoenix stopped talking.He let the rest of the day pass on through his head.He remembered telling Miles that he didn’t believe for a moment that he was guilty of killing his father, and the outburst that had come after; _“If I didn’t kill my father, when who did, Wright!?Who?”_ If he was going to be honest, the only memory he found fond after Miles’ story was the half hour they had spent in silence on those bleachers.Like Miles had after the Judge had died, Phoenix had spent the rest of their time with his arm around the man’s shoulders in a silent comfort.The memory sent a warm feeling through Phoenix’s chest.He would have spent more time in that feeling had he not remembered that there was a Clay Terran waiting for him to keep talking in real time.When he looked up, however, the look on Clay’s face was a mix between confused and dumbfounded.The boy opened and shut his mouth a few more times.

“Clay?” Phoenix asked, moving forward when the other man’s fingers tangled themselves in his own black hair.   

* * *

 

Miles Edgeworth stared at the two men in front of him, more than a little confused as to what was going on.He only knew that Wright had shown up with a lost-looking Clay Terran and demanded that they had some information that Miles had to hear.He didn’t know exactly what was going on, but in a matter of minutes, the library had been cleared out.Now Phoenix was standing next to him, and Clay sitting backwards on one of the chairs pulled from a study table.He stood in front of Clay, leaning against one of the tables with his arms crossed over his chest, looking between the two much like a parent looks at their children when they know something is wrong.

“Did something happen?” Miles asked.His voice was hushed, as if he brought his voice any louder something would break.With everything that had gone on since his arrival, he didn’t doubt that some other tragedy had occurred.Between Clay’s lost facial expression and Wright’s grim one, he wasn’t sure how he should feel, or if he should run to make sure that Apollo was still all right.

“Nick told me what happened…I mean what happened to your father,” Clay’s voice was small—but it was tiny compared to the rage that filled Edgeworth’s chest.Right as the man turned to unleash his fury on Wright (which would have been a string of curses that still wouldn’t have conveyed the greatness of his anger), the young man interrupted him, “Before you freak out, I pushed him to do it.If there’s anyone you should be mad at, it’s me,” Clay offered, curling in on himself.Miles had never seen the young man look so small or sheepish.Taken aback, he relented and opted then to cross his arms over his chest.

“Fine,” Miles conceded. “Why should I be mad at you, and not this fool?” He asked briskly.Leaning his arms on the back of the chair, Clay kept his eyes at his feet for a moment. 

“Well…I…I have something that I think you need to hear,” Clay started.Giving Wright one last dirty look, Miles nodded at Clay to continue. “See, I did a stretch of time in New Hampshire for assault and battery a few years ago.I think it was six?” The man stopped to count on his fingers before nodding to himself. “Yeah, six years ago.And…I got a cell partner.” He stopped, contemplating what he was going to say next, “It was one of those guys that doesn’t say anything, not to the guards, not to any other of the inmates…nothing,” Clay shrugged and rested his chin in his hand, biting his lips together in thought. “So, I kept egging him on.You know I’m talkative, and I wanted to know what was on his mind.So, every day, I would ask him what his name was.He said nothing to me for the longest time that I thought maybe his tongue had gotten chopped off or something.He looked like it could have, don’t give me that look, Nick,” Phoenix bit back his response and nodded firmly. “He had really shaggy hair and a beard that looked like it had been bitten off and glued on by dogs…he was rough.” The two older men kept watching for him to keep talking.“Anyway, I kept asking this guy his name.I was literally two days away from getting let out when I come in and ask him the same damn question I’ve been asking him the last year and—,”

“If this has a point, Clay, I would like to know it,” Miles cut in.He didn’t mean to be brash, but he did have more work to get done.Clay let out a huff and looked him in the eyes.

“The guy’s name was Yanni Yogi,” the younger man deadpanned.  

For Miles, everything stopped right there.Any train of thought he’d ever dreamt of having was flown out the window, and the first and last name of the man who had single-handedly ruined his life rang like a bell.Pictures of his father’s last trial, of his own, and of the elevator flashed in front of him.He was quick to try and push them back away, but he was less than lucky.His hands grew clammy.

“Wh-what did you say?” Miles breathed, quite unable to add more air to his windpipe.His knees felt weak.There was ringing in his ears that hadn’t been there five minutes prior.Luckily for him, Phoenix had thought this through and guided Miles to a seated position. _When did he take my arm…?_ Miles shook the thought aside and turned back to Clay. “Yanni Yogi…Yanni Yogi is innocent, he was proven so on account of mental disabilities by…”

“Robert Hammond?” Clay offered with a shrug.The look he received from Miles was bewilderment incarnate, and the young man let out a long sigh. 

“Tell me what you know,” Miles demanded.He was simply grateful that he could put the five words together without stuttering or losing his place.He still felt as though he was going to vomit, but he placed both hands on his knees and took fistfuls of the striped uniform.Clay looked first at Phoenix for approval before he continued.

“The night Yogi finally opened his mouth…he told me everything.His entire life story.  

“He’d gotten caught in New Hampshire for the murder of Robert Hammond.He told me that he’d received a letter before he actually went through with it, that the letter told him exactly where to find Hammond, and how to kill him.He said that there were instructions for him to follow if he didn’t want to get caught but…he told me that he just didn’t care enough to follow the second half…just the first two.”

“First two,” Miles ground out of his teeth, less of a question and more of a statement.There had to be more.

“He also told me about a case they call DL-6?” Clay offered.Miles, who had been intently watching his feet, finally looked up at that. “That’s the one where your father was the victim, right?” The older nodded mutely. “Yogi told me he had received letters for that, too…after he’d been convicted and thrown in prison.It was during those three years.All he had to do was reach out to a Robert Hammond, who would take care of everything…what Yogi didn’t know is that in proving you guilty and him innocent, he would be deemed mentally unstable and unfit to find a job anywhere.It was…” Clay closed his eyes, praying to any higher power he could think of that he could remember what the codger had said. “It was two years after you were put here that he got a new letter, this one explaining how to murder Hammond.It wasn’t him the whole time, but someone else, some third party, it was _his_ letter that—,”

“ _Whose_ letter?” Miles demanded through gritted teeth.It was as if everything that had happened in the past eight years was being played in his mind’s eye.The Sisters, the Judge, the library…everything.  

“He didn’t know, there was never a clear name with the signature,” Clay shook his head and closed his eyes. “But Yogi told me that the person who sent it had to be the man that killed your father.” Finally, the young man opened his eyes and met Miles’. “There is no one else who knows that much about DL-6, or about Hammond, or _you_ , for that matter…” he ground his hands into his eyes and waited until his brain stopped firing extra neurons before he reopened them to meet Miles’. ”For the murder of Gregory Edgeworth, both you and Yanni Yogi are innocent.The man who killed your father, wrote those letters to get you convicted and Hammond murdered was all someone who went by a ‘VK’.That’s all I know.”

By now, Phoenix had almost forgotten Clay’s existence in the room.He had eyes only for Edgeworth, whose shoulders were slowly starting to shake.The brunette watched as the other man’s eyes darted around the room like he was watching some sort of drama happen right before his eyes.Phoenix knew that his brain was working over time to try and figure out what Clay’s information meant.Clay simply watched from where he sat across from Edgeworth, the tips of his nails interlocking with each other.  

Inside Miles’ head, it was like a war zone.The only ‘VK’ he had ever heard of was the one sitting in the warden’s office…but that meant little to nothing.His father had made enough enemies, he was sure, with his line of work, just because the letters spelled out ‘von Karma’ didn’t mean that the man could have actually killed his father…could it?What motive would a man like von Karma have to _commit murder_ on two accounts and then frame the _man’s own son for it_?  

The silence dragged on between the three for a long moment.

“…Miles?” Phoenix tried.The voice pulled him out of his reverie, and he looked up to see Phoenix watching him with concerned blue eyes.Gray hair swished back and forth in front of his face as he shook his head.When Miles stood, the chair he was sitting on tipped backwards.Before he could get too far, there was a firm tug on his sleeve.Turning his head, he saw Phoenix half-standing, fist in his sleeve and the concerned expression unmoved from his face. “Wait.What are you doing?”

Miles paused.Was Wright serious?The gray haired man simply stared at him for a moment, gray eyes locked in blue for a long pause.Phoenix searched the desperation in Miles’ eyes, how the early onset of tears tugged at the corners of the almond shapes, and how Miles’ mouth was set in a hard line, probably to prevent any weakness showing through.Of course Wright knew what he was going to do, Miles understood that much.Edgeworth knew that this was just Phoenix’s way of making Miles rethink his game plan.

“Probably something foolish,” Miles replied before yanking his sweater loose.He heard Phoenix call after him, most likely to try and get Miles to reconsider, but he was already gone.

* * *

 

Warden von Karma usually didn’t have time for fools.Most of the time, he was busy working with papers and making telephone calls in his spare time, when he wasn’t in a business meeting with one of his colleagues.He had a brisk schedule to keep, and he’d be damned if he was going to fall behind either financially or in his schedule.His office was as pristine as ever; the hardwood had been recently polished, his desk dusted, and each paper put in its proper place.If not for the man sitting in front of him, von Karma would have called it a perfect day.  

As it were, Miles Edgeworth sat in front of him, his eyes somewhat crazed and hair frazzled.  

von Karma kept his face a mask—it was easy to do.The last time he had panicked—truly panicked, it was almost fifteen years prior, and he had spent a lot of time perfecting his mask.Not even Captain Gant (whom he had known for years, and honestly trusted about as far as he could throw him, but when his last Captain of the institution had walked out, he was really the only option) saw the face behind the mask more than a few times in his life, and if anyone thought that a von Karma would stoop so low to let a convicted felon get the better than him, then they were sorely mistaken.To be honest, von Karma was glad that he had been able to keep his mask in place for all of the boy’s story.He had just finished talking about one of the new inmates (Mr. Terran, the warden filed in his head for later purposes) and how he ‘knew the story behind DL-6’.Of course, as soon as the case file had been brought up, von Karma had been all ears.At first he had scoffed.What could a miscreant from _New Hampshire_ know about a matter like that?

And then, when Edgeworth had brought up the cursed name of Yanni Yogi…

At the moment, the two men sat at a crossfire.On the one hand, Miles Edgeworth held in his hands a lot of information that could be very damaging.On the other hand, the younger man was obviously a nervous fool with this newfound knowledge, and von Karma intended to take advantage of that.Had it been him in Edgeworth’s shoes, he would have bypassed the source entirely and gone public immediately.The damage would have been enough to bring doubt to the entire institution of Shawshank, and any plans that von Karma had had for the future.  

Luckily for the older man, Miles Edgeworth was weak.Nervous.Afraid.When von Karma had first moved him to work the prison’s accounts, he had done it in an attempt to keep Edgeworth under close attention, to make sure that something like this never happened.After a while, he had started to mold the man after himself.Sure, he didn’t come from the perfect von Karma blood, but even coal could be turned to diamond with enough time.Now, however…

“This is incredible news,” von Karma stated, making sure to keep his voice as level as possible. “Obviously this…Clay Terran has quite the imagination and devotion to DL-6.Perhaps he was following it on the news.”

The look he received from Edgeworth was pure confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“This…fiction that he has created to try and cheer you up is nothing but that.Fiction,” von Karma sat back in his seat and gave his attention to his manicured hands. “And fiction is always flawed.How do you know that this…this ‘VK’ isn’t a ghost?”

“Because,” Miles looked down at his hands.He was obviously frazzled: the combination of such vital information with a weak mind was always easy to best. “It came from Yanni Yogi himself—you were there, the day it happened, you knew him, he was a security guard—,”

“I make it my point not to mingle with criminals,” the warden’s anger flared. “I may have faced off with your father right before he was murdered, but I do remember that the real criminal was found guilty, and, may I remind you,” he leaned forward. “He is sitting right in front of me.” Miles flinched, to the warden’s pleasure, “And let me make it clear that you are hearing this thirdhand from a young man eager to please his friends, who heard it secondhand from a crazy old coot locked up for homicide.You might want to check your sources.”

“Yes, but even this information could open the case, the statute of limitations doesn’t run out until December, we can do _something_ , anything—“

“I don’t want to hear any more about this,” von Karma cut in, hoping to get the boy to finally shut his mouth. “No one will take the testimony of a clinically insane murderer seriously, and now I’m speaking about you both.” Red flared in Miles’ vision at that, coupled with desperation, and he searched the scenery in front of him for some sort of answers.

“It’s still testimony, something that my trial was severely lacking,” he argued. “I thought you were a great prosecutor before this, how can you be so…” von Karma bristled.He could feel the edges of his mask crumbling, “…so obtuse?”

If the warden’s temper had a line, it would have snapped right there, and it would have been loud. 

“What did you just call me?” his voice was venom.

“Obtuse,” Miles repeated, anger in his voice. “It means annoyingly insensitive, or slow to understand, it’s an adjective—,”

“ _I know what it means_ ,” von Karma snapped, shooting into a standing position.He stretched to his full height, nostrils flaring and lips pursed into an angry line. “What I _don’t_ know is why you think someone as perfect as a von Karma could be _obtuse_ ,” he spat it into the air in front of him.Turning to his intercom, he jammed his pointer finger into the ‘talk’ button. “Get in here,” he ordered to the people on the other side, before returning to the man in front of him. 

“Of course, if any of this got out, I wouldn’t say anything about the accounts—,”

“ ** _What did you just say to me!?_** ” the older man all but roared.He was almost leaning over his desk now, both hands firmly slammed in place. “Listen, you _murderer,_ don’t you _ever_ mention money to me _ever again_!”

The door into von Karma’s office burst open behind where Miles was pressed into the back of his seat and Damon Gant was quick to follow it into the office.He was a bulky man with broad shoulders and prematurely white hair, but he and von Karma had been in cahoots for the past two years at Shawshank, and his presence was enough to make Miles shrink into himself even more.

“Get him out of here,” von Karma sneered, finally standing up straight again. “Throw him in the hole for a _month.”_

 _“A month!?_ ” Miles all but screamed, feeling two sets of arms lift him by his own out of the seat and to a standing position. Had he the brain to know what was fully happening at the moment, he would have fought it. “You’re _crazy,_ ” he yelled as he was dragged toward the door. “You can’t do this! _This is my_ ** _life_** _you’re ruining!_ ” 

“ _Get him out,_ ” von Karma’s voice almost echoed in his now-empty office.There was an edge of panic at the back of his mind, he realized as the shouts from a crazed Edgeworth disappeared down the hallway.The man carefully sat down behind his desk, replaying the past half hour in his mind. _He knows too much,_ von Karma decided. _Him and that…boy.Clay Terran._

Something would have to be done about that.

* * *

 

“An entire month,” Gumshoe said it like it was a curse.It might as well have been, Phoenix figured. “And I thought a week was bad.Poor Edgeowrth.”

“So, does this mean that Edgey is _innocent_ , innocent?Not like _us_ innocent, but like, _really_ innocent?”

“That’s right,” Phoenix nodded, his arms crossed over themselves.Dustin Prince had been the one to track him down and tell him about Miles’ fate.Phoenix was just glad that he’d had an ounce of sanity to tell the others.He felt a tightness in his chest when he pictured not seeing Edgeworth for an entire month, but he pushed it down.There were more important things to consider, like Clay’s situation.He figured that Edgeworth had went to von Karma like an _idiot_ , and now they had to work even harder if they were going to prove his innocence.  

Especially if _von Karma_ was the killer, like Phoenix knew he had to be.There were no other leads, no other ‘VK’s, no ifs, ands, or buts.He shifted his glance over to Clay, who was in the middle of talking with Apollo and Klavier.If anyone had taken the news hard, it had been him.A heavy sigh broke through his lips. 

“ _Atmey., Luke,_ ” the officer called out from their platform.It was the mail delivery day, and Phoenix had been waiting for Clay’s test to come back for what seemed like ages.He let the conversation around him keep moving forward while he stood in silent rage for his friend. “ _Terran, Clay,_ ” he rattled off.

“Over here,” Clay raised his hand.The parcel addressed to him was passed back until it reached its intended receiver, who looked infinitely confused at the return address.

“Well?” Phoenix asked, leaning over his shoulder.

“Aw, shit,” Clay laughed under his breath. “The son of a bitch mailed in my test.”

Indeed, the return address claimed to be from the Maine Board of Education, and the manilla envelope was large enough to hold a certificate.  

“Well, are you gonna open it?” Gumshoe piped up from the other side of the group.

“I kind of just want to throw it away,” Clay confessed.“If I’m being honest.”

“Oh, come on,” Larry groaned and ripped the envelope out of Clay’s hands.When the younger tried to retrieve it, he simply moved it out of his reach, and then again, and again.When he got too close, Larry passed it off to Simon, who held it out of the short man’s reach.

“Come on, fellas, please would you just throw it away?” Clay begged as it was passed on to the next.Gumshoe held it for a few fake-outs with Clay, but then passed it on to Nick, who fully turned his body away from Clay, slipping his finger underneath the flap. “Nick, please, would you just burn that damn thing?”

“Come on, Clay,” Apollo chided. “You’re fine!”

“Listen to him, you gotta at least see how you did,” Phoenix nodded at Apollo in thanks and proceeded to tear apart the adhesive.Clay was finally quiet, watching with a muted dread as his test scores were opened.Phoenix pulled out the results and let out a long whistle.

“What?What is it?Is it bad?” Clay groaned. “I knew it was going to bad.”

“Clay Terran,” Phoenix grinned. “You are high school certified.”The air seemed to leave the black-haired man’s lungs in a flush. 

“Are you serious?” he asked, and a grin spread over his face. “Are you _serious?_ ”

“I knew it!” Apollo laughed, clapping the man on the back and pulling him into an excited hug. “You’re _fine!_ ”

“I’m fine!” Clay laughed along, looking down at the test scores again with a gleeful stare. “I’m Clay Terran, and I’m _fine!_ ”

* * *

 

From his temporary home in solitary confinement, Miles Edgeworth had two things to look forward to.He had the promise of getting out and seeing his friends again in the long run, and in the short run, he was just looking forward to his daily meals.The events of the past three days played over and over again in his mind, and the more he thought about it, the crazier he became with needing to know _the truth_.He was about to launch into the information for the umpteenth time when the small space in the door was opened. _Lunch time,_ he thought, sinking farther into the corner where he had placed himself for the next week.

“Hey, the kid got his test scores back,” a hushed voice hissed through the opening, and Miles immediately recognized the voice as a friend of his on the guard. “C+ average.He says he’s gonna study space when he gets out,” the voice informed him.  

In that moment, everything was lost to Miles.What remained was happiness and content, knowing that Clay was going to be just fine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, the excrement is finally hitting the oscillator. Stay tuned for the next chapter, it is going to be one of my least favorite and also my favorite at the same time.


	12. Miles Edgeworth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one ever said that facing the music was going to be easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.

Clay Terran grew up originally in Rhode Island, on a dusty gravel road with nothing to really call ‘normal’.His mother worked at the town diner until he was fifteen, and his father had walked out on them after he was born.She would always tell him that he had two older brothers, and that one of them had gone off to the world war, and the other had just moved away.He never knew if she would be telling the truth at that or just making up stories about people whom he should aspire to be, just that he wished that he could meet them one day.But, as far as he was concerned, it was him and his mom in a small, country farmhouse with two dogs against the world.He’d grown up tough, always defending his mother’s honor against the mean kids in his classroom, and he’d learned early on to say ‘I’m fine’ instead of voicing his emotions.Usually, he was on his own at night.His mother’s late hours kept him from seeing her more than a few times a week.While she was away, though, he was busy getting himself into all sorts of trouble.He shoplifted for the first time when he was seven, and it slowly turned into a bad habit that got him arrested for the first time when he was sixteen.  

After that, his mother had asked him not to come home again.  

So, Clay had made it on his own for a while.Sometimes there were jobs that he could find that would keep him out of the pen for a year or two, but other times, his fuse would break, or his funds would run low, and he’d be lost all over again.If he was being honest, he didn’t even remember the night that ended with his daughter being born; he just remembered waking up one night to a crying child on his stoop.The incident with the TV had only happened because of her, incidentally.He figured Luna deserved more than a cruddy father who was usually absent.In his copy of Common Law, he had written the day he was going to be released, and kept a tally of how close he was getting.He had approximately four months left before he would be able to see his daughter’s smiling face again.Most nights he would stay up late just thinking about it and smiling.  

At the moment, however, he was scrubbing the hallway floors and muttering her name under his breath with every sweep.If there was one thing he was grateful for in Shawshank, it was that he was able to see the moon right before he went to bed from his cell.He’d always loved space.Looking up at the stars, he remembered when he was a kid, was his favorite thing to do.His mother had bought him an astronomy book with the different constellations and information about the planets.He hoped that the book was still in the same place he had left it before running off to steal that damned TV, though he sorely doubted it.It was something for him to look forward to when the bars locked tight for the night.  

“Clay Terran,” the guard on duty barked his name, startling him out of his thoughts.He was about to open his mouth in protest; he’d been doing nothing wrong at that moment.When he saw that the officer wasn’t angry, he relaxed on his mop. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, letting the officer know who he was.

“The warden wants to see you,” he jerked his head over to a smaller officer, who looked like he was pretty impatient. 

“M-me?” Clay did a double take.He was returned with two blank stares before he hurried to throw the mop into his bucket and roll down his sleeves.  

Before Edgeworth had been thrown in the hole for an entire month, he had gotten Clay and Apollo in the habit of always tying their sweaters around their waists, something for which the young man was grateful now.He buttoned up the denim coat quickly and straightened out the sleeves.He’d never met the warden personally in any of the places he had been in, but nevertheless, he figured it had to do with DL-6, and wanted to look as professional as possible.  

A glance in the window assured him that he looked fine, but when they stopped in front of the guards’ exit, he turned to the officer with him. 

“He wants to talk to me out here?” He asked, dubious.The guard mutely pushed open the door with a shrug.

“That’s what he said,” he clarified.With shaking arms, Clay stepped out into the brisk night.Everything was quiet, like a simple sound could break the serenity of the moment.Pulling his sleeves down to his hands, Clay found von Karma standing right on the other side of the chain link fence, his hands folded behind his back and eyes focused on the night sky.Clay moved toward him with slow, cautious steps.He hesitated at the fence, looking at the invisible boundary, to the figure, and back again.In the hesitation, von Karma turned on his heel to see a confused boy. 

“Clay Terran,” he stated.It grabbed the boy’s attention.Figuring he would meet him halfway, von Karma took a step closer, and was rewarded with the boy mirroring the motion.  

“Um, you wanted to see me?” Clay asked.He rocked back and forth on his heels, watching as von Karma reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes. Confused, he let the warden take one before he did, and when his was lit, he took a long pull and breathed out. 

“I hope you will forgive the placement.I feel foolish enough as it is,” he smiled, and the action sent a shiver down Clay’s spine.“But we do have a situation on our hands.”

“Yes sir, we do,” Clay nodded.he continued to breathe in his cigarette.  

“I hope you know the gravitas of this,” von Karma explained. “We’re talking about people’s lives here: that of Miles Edgeworth and that of your own, of Yanni Yogi’s…”

“I know,” the boy’s voice was small when he responded. 

“If we’re going to move forward with this, you have to be absolutely sure that what you think is right _is_ the truth. There’s no going back.” Clay kept nodding, unsure of what to say in response. “Now, I need to know—would you be willing to take that witness stand, swear in front of God, his judge and jury, on the Holy Book that Miles Edgeworth is an innocent man and that there was another person involved with DL-6?” Clay dropped his cigarette and squashed out the butt while he was talking, Filled with more confidence, Clay looked the man dead in the eye and nodded with a grin on his face.

“Just give me that chance,” he replied.von Karma watched the glint in the boy’s eye for a moment before he nodded in return.  

The older man took a step away and shifted his gaze to over the boy’s shoulder.Clay watched him with a confused expression, wondering if he should follow or not.He was mildly aware of a loud ‘pop’ behind him.He was about to turn to see what was going on when a hot, searing pain shot through his left shoulder.Before he could even respond, in shock or otherwise, there was another shooting through his gut.He looked down to see that there were two pools of blood showing through his sweater, along with two bullet holes.Panic washed through him and pushed the pain that he should have been feeling out.  

Clay Terran looked up at the moon for a fraction of a moment.  

A third gunshot rang through the air and the boy hit the ground face-first.A long pause filled the air, only broken by von Karma’s polished shoes stepping over his lifeless body.The warden looked up to where the gunshots had come from.  

Damon Gant stepped into the light, holding a shotgun and a small grin on his face.von Karma nodded up at him before straightening out his sleeves and stepping over the body of the boy who only wanted to watch the moon.

 _All in a day’s work with fools,_ von Karma thought to himself.

* * *

Phoenix had decided a long time ago that the one thing he never wanted to hear in his life was one friend mourning the loss of another.  He’d heard it a few times in his life at Shawshank, but none of them compared to…to this.  The news about Clay had spread throughout the prison surprisingly fast; but with a man like Clay, friends were in high supply.   All in all, the entire prison knew about it not 24 hours after it had happened.  Sure, Phoenix had heard some of friends of Clay’s reactions but…

Nothing had prepared him for Apollo.

At first, the younger man had been disbelieving.The lies that von Karma was feeding the officers was that the boy had tried escaping.No one could bring anything up about it: the facts stated that Clay was shot right outside the prison gates, and that he had been trying to escape (Phoenix didn’t believe it for one moment; it would take a guard with keys to open the gate he was shot outside of, and Clay would never be so idiotic to pass the gates unless it was something very important).He had said as much to Apollo, who was currently crouched against the walls of the prison, his head cradled in his hands and fingers pulling at his stray hairs.Truth be told, Phoenix was just happy that Apollo had calmed down from when he head originally heard the news.As much as he loved Apollo, the crying and gut-wrenching sobs were enough to make Phoenix’s own eyes water.  

“I just want to know why,” Apollo hissed.In that moment, he was eternally grateful for Klavier, who sat with his back to the wall, and arm draped across the boy’s shoulders. “Why?Why would they kill him?” His voice was rough and small.It made Phoenix’s own chest tighten.

“He knew too much,” Klavier stated.Phoenix watched as the boy curled in on himself further. “He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, with too much information.”

“He didn’t _ask_ for any of this,” Apollo’s rage kept him upright. “He was a good guy, he was almost _out of here_ , he was going to learn about space, and try to go to the moon, and—and—his _daughter—_ he wanted to see her so badly again—,” before he could go on, Apollo was sobbing again, his arms curled around his knees and face buried in the tear-stained cloth.As Phoenix watched his young friend mourn, he couldn’t help but wonder if Miles knew, locked up in his cell, or how he would take it after he had served his month.

Phoenix just hoped that he would take it okay.

* * *

Miles Edgeworth had been sitting in the same place since his food came yesterday.  The thought of moving hadn’t even crossed his mind, and the corner of the cell was almost…comforting.  It had been so long since he had seen anyone’s face, or felt anything against his skin that wasn’t cold concrete.  If he closed his eyes hard enough, he could imagine that the walls were hugging him instead of holding him in.  He did so, and imagined what things must be like in the yard now.  He figured that Gumshoe and Larry were probably arguing about something, as per usual, Armando and Simon were most likely playing cards, and Phoenix—

Phoenix would probably be comforting Apollo, he thought with a sinking stomach.

The news about Clay had come with his meal.Ever since, Miles had sat with nothing filling his mind but the memories of teaching Clay the basic schooling, and fighting off tears with every refresher that he would never see the boy’s smile again.The mourning was different this time than when he lost his father.Then, he had been grieving over never being able to learn anything from the man who raised him, and now…now, he was grieving for a boy who would never quite reach his full potential, who would never see his daughter grow up, and who would never tell stories of all the interesting thoughts he had whilst staring up at the moon.It was enough to make his nose prickle.

The sound of metal locks sliding open was just about enough to mirror Miles’ feelings, had it not scared him half out of his socks.It took him mere seconds to realize that the locks were opening for his door, and he was quickly turning as much as he could away from the impending light that flooded in through the open door.Even with eyes closed and hands covering his face, Miles felt the light piercing into his retinas and sending a shooting pain through his head.It seemed like eons before the visitor began speaking.

“Terrible news, about that boy,” warden von Karma’s voice spilled in, louder than Miles remembered it.Then again, being in a six-foot concrete box for a month made every sense go crazy as soon as it was resurfaced. “He was three months away from being released, and tried to escape.”

“Bull shit,” Miles gritted out of his teeth, risking a glance toward the light.Sure enough, the man stood at his full height, opting to look down his nose at the man on the floor. “Clay Terran was murdered—,”

“And it broke Captain Gant’s heart to have to stop him; truly it did,” von Karma sneered.He moved forward into the threshold of the cell. “But I suppose the best thing to do would be to move on from it; put it behind us.” Daring to peek out from behind his hand into the terrible light, Miles felt his blood boil in his chest. 

“I’m done,” he mashed out.He tried to make it sound as defying as possible, but with his disused voice it sounded more like a hiss than the growl he was intending. “Everything stops.Find someone else to run your godforsaken scams.”

von Karma’s lip curled.He stalked farther inside and crouched down, his every movement slow and calculated.Pointing a bony finger in Miles’ face, he bared his teeth.

“Nothing stops,” he spat, “or you will do the hardest time there is.Your protection from the guards?” He shook his head. “Gone.Captain Lang might have protected you from Engarde, but I’m sure Redd White would like to pay you back for that,” he watched as Miles’ face paled once again. “You’ll think you’d been fucked by a train.And the library?” The smile that stretched across von Karma’s face was sinister. “It’ll be walled off, brick by brick.We’ll have us a book burning in the yard.All those men you helped get their education?They’ll be gone, just like that boy.” Miles felt bile rise in his throat as he watched von Karma slowly rise back to his height.“And if _that_ isn’t enough for you, I’m sure Captain Gant would be happy to put a bullet through your friend…what was his name, Captain?” He turned his head over his shoulder.

“Phoenix Wright,” Gant offered.Miles’ blood ran cold at that name.How many times had he wanted Wright to lay low? 

“I would be happy to have Phoenix Wright killed for you,” he smiled. “Just like Clay Terran, and Captain Lang, and that _scum_ Gregory Edgeworth.” Miles’ eyes widened at his father’s name.Even though his eyes hadn’t adjusted to the light, Miles was on his feet in an instant.He was about to curl his hand into a fist for von Karma when he was halted by a shoe to his jaw.“Fool.And if you think your friend is safe, you’d best think again.Now, do I make myself clear?” He turned as if to leave, but tilted his head back. “Or am I being _obtuse?”_ he spat into the darkness. When he was back into the fresh air, he turned to Gant and nodded inside. “Give him another _month_ to think about it.”

The cell door shut with the most resonant slam Mies had ever heard.He felt it reverberate in his chest, through the hollowness that he felt instead of a gut.Three names swam through his head, over and over again.They were all names of people who had died by von Karma’s hand…two of them directly from being involved with Edgeworth, as well. _Father.Lang.Clay.Father.Lang.Clay._ The thought of adding a ‘Phoenix’ to that list was enough to bring tears into his eyes. _Father.Lang.Clay._ _Wright, please, for once in your life, don’t do anything foolish,_ he begged to the air in front of him, pressing his palm to the cold concrete.  

_Father._

_Lang._

_Clay._

* * *

Another month passed before Phoenix saw Edgeworth again.  Word had passed slower than normal about Miles’ extra sentence to life in solitary, but when the man heard about it, he had refused to talk to anyone.  Luckily for him, someone had spoken to Larry about not bringing it up at all.  Phoenix felt a tightness in his chest when he thought about it, but squashed it down.  Apollo still ate hardly anything in the mess hall, much to Klavier’s dismay.  At least once a meal time, the blonde would offer something to homily to watch it be pushed away.  The loss of Clay had hit everyone hard, and whenever a story came up about him, it was told with much fondness, but it usually felt empty without the man himself chipping in.  Phoenix’s one wish was that he would be able to comfort his friend, but…

When the brunette laid eyes on Miles Edgeworth for the first time in two months, it was all he could do not to march right up to him and wrap him in his arms.Instead, Phoenix stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched the gray-haired man from a distance.He looked the same as he had before…mostly.Upon looking closer, Phoenix could see that his hair was a bit more frazzled, like he had tried to make it conform to its usual style but had lost motivation partway through.His glasses were removed from his face, probably shoved in a pocket somewhere.The closer the brunette drew, the easier he could see that Edgeworth’s eyes were unfocused, like he was either deep in thought or watching something happening in his mind’s eye.  

For the past two months, Phoenix had wracked his brain for some sort of witty greeting for his friend; anything that would bring a smile to his face.He had come up with a few, but now that he was approaching him…they all seemed idiotic.Instead of saying anything, then, the man leaned against the brick and slowly slid into a seated position next to his friend.It wasn’t like the comfortable silence they’d shared in the past; this was heavy and somber, leaden with words wanted and needed to say, but burdened with tongues that couldn’t quite make it so.  

“My father was a great man,” Miles stated. It sounded empty to Phoenix’s ears, but looking over, Miles’ brow was furrowed with conviction. “He wasn’t the richest, or the smartest…but still great.” His voice was still scratchy from disuse, and he swallowed heavily to get it back in its usual range. “He would always tell me; ‘Miles, you can do anything that your heroes do, all you have to do is believe in yourself.’When I told him I wanted to be a lawyer, like him…he was so happy.He’d saved each and every one of his texts from his university time.I paid nothing for my first two years of texts.He taught me everything I needed to know about budgeting, banking…everything I’m doing here, I learned from him.” Curling his legs closer to himself, Miles rested his elbows on his knees and his forehead in his hands. “I don’t know if he’d be proud of me, or if he would even look at me…if he could.” The sob that Miles choked on was about as muffled as he could make it.Phoenix made sure not to say anything about it. “I’ve taken everything he wanted me to be and now I’m using it for the man who killed him…” He laughed, empty and sorrowful at the same time. “I must be the worst son in the world,” he closed his eyes. 

“It doesn’t make you a bad son,” Phoenix assured him, turning his head to finally look at the man up close. “It just means you’re a survivor,” he explained when Miles didn’t look up.  

“We were supposed to stay after his last trial,” Miles went on like he hadn’t heard Phoenix. “It was to wait for the snow.I didn’t want…I had studies that needed attending to, I made him leave, I—“ He shuddered and held his arms as if he was fighting off the cold.It was mid-September now, and a slight breeze was flying through Shawshank, but Phoenix figured that it wasn’t the breeze that caused his friend’s chill. “I took him right to his dying place,” Miles’ voice was anything less of a whisper.

“You had no idea what was going on,” Phoenix reasoned. “You were being a good student, I’m sure your father understood that.”

“A good student,” Miles scoffed. “I’m stuck in here on account of being a good student.” The silence at that moment was different than the one before; now, it was thick with emotion. “Do you think you’ll ever get out of here?” Miles asked after a moment.Phoenix paused.In his almost-fifteen years in prison, he had thought about it, sure, but now that it was coming from the man next to him…he wasn’t sure.

“I’m sure I will, when I’ve got a couple screws loose and a long beard…I’ll probably be the Judge’s age when it happens, though,” the brunette shrugged. 

“I know what I’d do if I ever got out,” Miles turned his head to the sky, leaning his head against the brick.He had held onto this thought for two months: it had kept him sane when he thought that the walls were closing in on him. “I would go to Zihuatanejo.”

“Gesundheit?” Phoenix tried.  

“Zihuatanejo,” Miles repeated. “It’s in Mexico.My father went once when he was younger.He kept books, pictures, postcards…” Phoenix was just glad that there was light in his friends’ eye as he spoke. “They say that the Pacific ocean is so blue, and vast…do you know what they say about it?”

“No,” Phoenix’s eyes were fixed on his face, so when Miles looked over, he was met with the blue what he imagined the ocean to be. 

“They say it has no memory,” Miles explained. “That’s where I want to live for the rest of my life.Somewhere open…warm…with no memory.” He fixed his eyes on the sky again.With the contact broken, Phoenix bit his lips together and turned his own gaze to the ground. “I’d open up a little hotel, or a cafe, right on the beach.Probably buy an old boat, and fix it up again…take the guests out for a few fishing trips….something to get out of this hell hole,” he sighed.

“Zihuatanejo,” Phoenix parroted with a smile on his face.Raising an eyebrow, Miles turned back to his friend, his head still leaned against the wall.

“You know, I could use a man who knows how to get things,” Miles let a small grin pass over his lips.Phoenix watched him; the contours of his face, the gentle curve of his lips that looked _so genuine_ that he wanted to weep…

“I don’t know if I could make it out there,” Phoenix sighed. “I’ve been in here since I was eighteen, Miles…” the use of his real name sent shivers down Miles’ spine, “and I’ve lived off the coast my entire life.A place like the Pacific?…It would probably scare me.”

“You underestimate yourself,” Miles shook his head.

“I don’t think so,” the brunette retorted. “I mean, in here, I’m important.I can get you anything you want…but out there…” Phoenix picked up a small grey rock and turned it over in his hands. “All you need is the Yellow Pages.I think the outside would spook me something awful.”

“Not me,” the gray haired man’s voice was stronger, now. “I didn’t kill my father, and I didn’t put Yanni Yogi or Robert Hammond in their graves, either.Whatever mistakes I’ve made in my life, I’ve paid for them and then some.” He fixed his eyes on the building opposite them, focusing in on one of the bricks. “I don’t think that hotel and boat are too much to ask for,” he nodded to himself.Phoenix closed his eyes, swallowing down his excitement with the ever-present knowledge of the brick pressing into his back.  

“I don’t think you should be doing this to yourself, Miles,” he said with eyes shut. “The truth is that we’re in here, and Mexico is way the hell down there, and that’s just the way it is.”

“Yeah, that’s the way it is,” Miles scoffed. “It’s down there, I’m in here…” the man closed his eyes for a bit more than a second.When he reopened them, he pushed himself to his feet and started stalking away.  

“Miles, wait,” Phoenix was quick to follow, taking longer strides to catch up with him.He reached out and fisted a hand around Miles’ sleeve, stopping him in his tracks.The other man turned around, quickly facing the other man. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Wright,” Miles assured him, grey eyes locked in blue. “I guess it all comes down to one simple decision.”

“What?”Phoenix pressed, Miles’s hand was retracted from his own, and the gray-haired man took a step closer to the brunette.

“Get busy living, or get busy dying,” Miles elaborated.Phoenix’s brow furrowed at that, and right when he was about to ask what in the hell that meant, he felt two hands on either side of his face, guiding his lips right to Miles’ own.Stunned, Phoenix’s hands paused midway to the man’s hips.They stayed like that for a moment before Miles finally pulled away.He was about to open his mouth (most likely to apologize, Phoenix realized with a shock of panic) when Phoenix finally grabbed the man by the hips and pulled him back, closing the distance between the two again.This time it was Miles’ turn to be surprised, but his shock lasted much less time than Phoenix’s.After a moment, he was returning the kiss in earnest, Phoenix’s lower lip caught between his own and dark hair woven through his fingers.Unsure how much Phoenix was actually okay with, Miles pulled away when he ran out of breath, his eyes still shut and breath shallow.Apparently Wright was in the same sort of shape, but thankfully for Miles he didn’t remove himself from the situation.Instead of moving away, Miles leaned his forehead against Phoenix’s and let out a long sigh.

“Wri-Phoenix.” He kept his eyes closed, as if opening them out erase everything that had happened in the past ten seconds. “Do you know where Buxton is?”

“Buxton?” Phoenix thought for a moment.. “It’s a few towns over from my hometown.”

“There’s a hayfield over by the town line,” Miles elaborated.

“There are a lot of hayfields—,”

“Wright, please,” Miles finally opened his eyes and met the blue, which looked brighter than he last remembered. “This hayfield is different.There’s a brick wall running along the side of it, with a giant oak tree on top of one of its hills.My father used to take me there for a picnic on my birthday every year.” He shook his head suddenly, like he was remembering something important, and fixed his eyes on the ground again. “Can you do something for me?”

“Sure, Miles,” the brunette nodded, his hands tightening on Miles’ waist. “Anything.”

“I want you to find it.I want you to find that hayfield, and follow it up to that tree.There’s a rock of pure obsidian that has no business being under that tree.I want you to find it, and dig up what’s underneath.”

“What’s in there?” Phoenix moved his head to try and catch the other’s attention.Miles shook his head mutely before finally looking up once more.

“You’ll have to dig it up,” he grinned.Phoenix was quick to etch the picture into his mind, and when he opened his mouth to say more, he was cut off by Miles pressing one more kiss to his lips.When the brunette returned it, he made sure to remember what that felt like, too, squashing down the word ‘finally’ until it became ‘thank you’.They would have stayed there for the rest of the night had the bell not rung.Once Miles pulled away with a small peck, he gave Phoenix another smile. “Do you remember the Mexican name?”

“Zihuatanejo,” Phoenix repeated.The smile on Miles’ face only grew wider, and he turned to join the droves of inmates heading inside.Too confused to move, Phoenix simply lifted his fingers to his mouth, pressing the pads against the soft flesh to make sure that he wasn’t in a dream.

* * *

The dream came crashing down that night at the mess hall.  Phoenix had waited a good ten minutes after everyone else was seated before he realized that Miles wasn’t coming to dinner.  He put a lid on the panic in his stomach and forced himself to take three deep breaths in.  

“Hey, where’s Edgeworth?” Apollo piped up.

 _Thank goodness for Apollo_ , Phoenix thought gratefully.  

“I saw him come in here,” Gumshoe raised his head to try and look around, looking much like a submarine.Phoenix would have laughed if he weren’t so scared.

“I’m concerned about him,” Wright stated, more to his food than anything else. “He’s been acting a little…weird lately.”

“Weird how?” Armando asked, barely looking up from his food.When he did, the look he gave Phoenix was a bit too…knowing for the brunette’s liking.He felt his ears turn pink.

“Weird in that he’s been talking funny,” he clarified. “I think it’d be best if we all keep an extra eye out for him, make sure that he’s not thinking of doing anything dumb.”

“Uh-sure,” Larry nodded from across the table from Phoenix.The eyes of everyone at the table were on him in less time than it took for Phoenix to drop his fork.When Larry looked back up, he let out a small whine. “What?”

“What did you do?” Gumshoe almost growled, turning to fully face the other man. 

“He might have stopped by the shop earlier today,” Larry muttered, “and I-I might have given him some rope.”

Phoenix felt his stomach drop to his feet.

“Some _rope?_ ” Gumshoe bellowed.

“How long?” Simon piped up where Nick was silent.

“S-six feet, come on guys, why are you all staring at me like that?I didn’t ask what he wanted with it—,”

“Dammit, Larry,” Gumshoe went on, “you should’ve asked!”

“I didn’t know he was actin’ funny, I was just happy to see him!” The blonde protested.Unable to move, or speak, or think, for that matter, Phoenix sat stunned.It was like every place Miles had touched him in the yard was oversensitive, but most of all, his lips were burning.His nose prickled with the threat of tears.His heart was racing in his ribcage, battering against his bones and lungs while the bile in his stomach threatened to break into his esophagus.Everything at the table was seemingly gone; all Phoenix could see was the smile Miles had given him before disappearing back into the building.Only two thoughst remained in his head:

 _When something smells, it’s_ **_always_ ** _the Butz._

_Please, Miles, for once in your life, don’t do anything stupid._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, well, we learned that when Ann gets on a roll with her fanfics, she gets on a roll and just keeps updating. I don't know how often they'll come after this, but...we shall see. Really, this chapter is the entire reason I started writing this, so I was really excited to get it out of my system. I guess some fun things to do with your soulmate: have the same warning thoughts for each other.  
> Right.  
> I'm sorry.


	13. Bobby Fullbright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some birds are just not meant to be caged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't checked out the Rockabye, Baby! artist on Spotify, you're missing out. Everything in this chapter was written, edited, and revised to their discography.  
> I can honestly say that everything is only uphill from here. Shout out to everyone who left comments, kudos, and other reviews so far, I am forever in debt to you giving me motivation to keep going with this. You all are beautiful people.  
> Time to play how many cameos can Ann throw into one chapter, ahoy!

_“I want these files done in two minutes, it’s time to go home,” von Karma snapped his fingers at the desk right outside his office.He had to admit, without Miles Edgeowrth sitting at the oak, he’d had bit more paperwork to do, but now that the man was back, he was ready to go home a bit earlier than he had been._

_“I’m almost done,” Miles replied, barely looking up from his work.With a nod, von Karma moved back into his office and removed the cross-stitch of Lady Justice from her place on the wall.Behind it, embedded in the wall, was a safe that he proceeded to punch in the code, sliding the heavy spin-lock until it swung open.He caught the heavy door before it slammed into the wall next to it.He moved away from the safe just in time for Miles to set his paperwork inside.As usual, it was a thick book of accounts on top of file folders filled with his work for the day.As soon as his work was neatly placed inside, Miles stepped away and let von Karma put his office back in order.von Karma placed the cross-stitch back in place and turned around, striding out to his entryway. He made sure to lock the door to his office tightly before he slipped off his shoes.He kept a pair of street shoes under the coat rack, into which he wasted no time changing.When he stood, Miles took over the seat and pulled out his shoe shining kit._

_“It’s an important day tomorrow, I want those looking like mirrors,_ ” _von Karma pointed at the shoes._

_“Absolutely,” Miles mumbled from where he sat._

_“Oh, and take my suit down to laundry for dry-cleaning.”_

_“Yes, sir,” the inmate’s voice was quiet, as if raising it would set something off.A smirk came to von Karma’s face and he nodded._

_“It’s good to have you back, Edgeworth.Things can start running perfectly again.” von Karma turned and left at that, feeling the man’s stare boring into his back._

_When Miles was finished with von Karma’s shoes, he exited the office and made his usual way back to the cell block.He had the rope he’d asked form Larry hidden underneath his sweater…with luck, the guards would pass it off as a rumple in his clothes.The guards buzzed him into the block quickly, and he turned left toward his cell.His heart was hammering in his chest, and the rope he carried with him seemed to weigh two tons instead of two ounces.At first, he had told himself that he would be insistent on keeping his eyes straight ahead of I’m, but when he felt another set of eyes boring into the side of his head, he couldn’t help but turn to see who was watching him._

_Of course it was Phoenix.It was always Phoenix, he mused to himself, watching him, making sure that he was still alive.Miles returned the stare with a steady look, burning the sight of his best friend into his mind._

_His best friend.Whom he had kissed.It still didn’t feel real._

_If not for the burning of his lips in that moment, remembering Phoenix’s on his own, he would have dismissed it as a great fantasy._

* * *

 

Phoenix had spent a lot of long nights in Shawshank, but none compared to the night after Miles kissed him.Everything was still inside, and had it not been for the storm that rocked through most of Maine that night, it would have ben one of the quietest, too.Phoenix spent most of that night sitting awake on his bed, staring at the wall that would lead to Miles’ cell, two blocks over.His sketchbook lay open next to him, the drawings frozen in graphite.He had tried for a few hours to draw some more, to put any sort of content on the page, but it had just ended in scribbles.He couldn’t focus for longer than a few minutes on any one thing, and he’d already gotten up to pace around the cell five times.His hair had drooped from how many times he’d run his fingers through it.Every time the thunder outside boomed, he would flinch away from it, like it had personally hurt him.Eventually, Phoenix calmed down enough to sit and draw, but when he did, it all came out looking the same; like a hangman’s noose.

The morning whistle couldn’t come fast enough.  

Tugging on his sweater, Phoenix was one of the first men out of his cell.Immediately he looked to where Miles Edgeworth would be standing in the next few seconds.He adjusted the sweater on his shoulders, feeling a panic that he’d never quite felt before.Not this intense, at least.Biting his lips together, Phoenix kept his eyes glued on Miles’ usual spot as the guards started calling out which blocks were clear.One of the guards passed on the main floor below him, and the brunette shut his eyes tightly. _Please just be asleep, please just be asleep,_ he prayed.  

“Man missing on floor two, cell 298756!” The guard called down to the roll call.For Phoenix, every other sound in the block dropped out. 

“298756.Edgeworth!” The guard yelled down the hall. “Don’t make me come down there, I’ll thump your skull!”By now, any sound that had been coming from the block was completely gone. “Come on, Edgeworth, you’re puttin’ me behind!” The fat man ascended the stairs to the second floor of cells.“Edgeworth, you better be dead or dying in there, I shit you not!” he bellowed, brushing past Phoenix.  

 _Of all the things to say,_ Phoenix felt as if his heart was going to burst through his chest with how badly it was pounding.He kept his eyes closed tightly, as if his prayers to whatever higher power was listening that Miles would just _be okay_.  

“Oh, my holy God,” the officer’s voice came from down the hall.All the blood in Phoenix’s body spilled to his feet.His mind immediately brought the picture of Miles right to the forefront of his mind.Miles yesterday, when he looked so happy, Miles kissing him, Miles casually saying snarky comments—all of them overlaid with the god-awful thought that Miles was _dead_ in his cell.  

Everything went black around Phoenix.  

* * *

 

When he woke up, the warden’s voice was echoing off the cell walls.Phoenix was back in his cell, laying on his bed. _I must have passed out_ , he thought, sitting up.The pounding in the back of his head was testimony that he probably fell backwards.He sat up slowly, focusing in on what the old man was ranting about.

“I want people questioned, the entire prison searched…everything.Mostly, I want to know where the _fuck_ he is.Understand me?Question every prisoner in this row.Start with that friend of his.”

“Which one?” Captain Gant’s voice replied.Phoenix jumped off of his mattress when there was a clattering at his bars.When he looked up to find the sound, he was met with the scowling face of Manfred von Karma.  

“ _Him_ ,” the man pointed his only finger into the cell for a moment before moving on.  

“Stand up,” Gant barked, and Phoenix did so, stuffing his shirt into his waistband.He hoped that it would make him look more presentable, but whether or not it worked was debatable.If the warden was that worked up, that must mean that it wasn’t necessarily a sign that Miles was dead.He must have missed the lockdown whistle when he was unconscious.Unspeakable relief washed over Phoenix’s shoulders just in time for when the Captain slammed cell open and Phoenix moved forward.He could feel eyes boring into the side of his head as he was guided down to where von Karma was staring intently at the guard from this morning.

“Tell me again what happened, and officer, _don’t_ tell me ‘he just wasn’t here’,” von Karma spat. “I’ve seen last night’s count, he was here at light’s out.”He had his arms crossed over his chest, a wrinkle in his forehead looking deeper than normal.  

“But sir, he just _wasn’t_ ,” the officer blubbered.Scoffing, von Karma snapped his fingers at the man, and Captain Gant grabbed him by the collar, ushering him out of the cell. 

“I have no need for fools on my staff,” the warden snapped.He looked to the other two guards standing right outside the bars. “I want him found.Not tomorrow, not after breakfast, **_now_**.” He waited until the guards were gone before turning is hellish gaze on Phoenix, who felt quite frozen in Miles’ cell.He had almost forgotten to look around.It looked like any other cell in the block, sans the Pink Princess poster Phoenix had gifted to the man right after Engarde had been transferred and the miniature rock sculptures on the windowsill.A small smile came to Phoenix’s lips at the evidence that yes, his friend had indeed existed, but that feeling was quickly drained out of his being when von Karma began speaking again.

“Well?” The man tapped his foot impatiently. “I see you two all the time; you’re thick as thieves.He must have said _something,_ ” Phoenix opened his mouth as if to protest, but bit the words into the back of his throat.That only fueled von Karma’s rage, and he threw his hands into the air. “It’s a _miracle_ , then!The man up and vanished like a fart in the wind.” He spun on his heel and paced to the back of the cell, where Miles’ rock carvings were sitting.Phoenix wanted to scream at him to leave it alone, that anything that was Miles’ should be left alone, but before he could, von Karma’s pale hand was curled around a handful of them. “Nothing left but some rocks and that bitch on the wall,” he turned to the poster. “Maybe you know, miss fussy britches, do you like talking?” Silence stretched on through the cell, which only fueled von Karma’s rage further. “And why should she be any different?This is a conspiracy, that’s what,” the man sneered. “And apparently everyone is in on it. _You_ ,” he hissed, throwing one of the rocks at Phoenix’s head, which the brunette barely dodged in time, “ _you_ ,” one at Gant’s head, “ _them_ ,” two more out the cell door at the guards outside, “ _and_ ** _her_** , “ he tossed one last rock at the poster, right at the Pink Princess’s head.Phoenix slowly uncurled from where he had taken cover from von Karma’s anger at the sound of paper ripping.Every head in the cell turned to the wall, where a nice, neat hole was now made right through the Princess’s hair.Phoenix looked to the ground where he’d expect the rock to have landed, but seeing nothing except concrete, he turned his gaze back to the wall.von Karma was already ahead of him.Before anyone could react, the warden was ripping the poster off the wall.  

Phoenix’s jaw went slack at what was revealed behind the poster.  

There was a hole, just big enough to fit someone around Phoenix’s size, reaching through twenty-five feet of concrete and right through to the piping.Moving closer, Phoenix leaned his head to look at the carefully-carved tunnel.Any doubt that Phoenix had had about Miles being alive was suddenly thrown out the window, replaced with an unwavering sense of awe.

In 1956, Miles Edgeworth escaped from Shawshank prison.According to the guards, all that they’d found of him that morning was a bar of soap, a prison uniform, and a rock hammer, whittled down to the nub.Phoenix remembered when he had first seen the rock hammer.He’d guessed that it would take someone six hundred years to burrow out of Shawshank with something so small.Miles had done it in twelve.Phoenix figured that, after Clay was killed, Miles had had enough of sitting around.

It had all started in the first two months Miles had his hammer.At first he’d been true to his word, using it only to shape some rocks he’d found in the yard.He’d been in the middle of carving out an Easter Island-looking figure when he’d paused to look up at the wall.There were at least seven names carved around the concrete, names of faceless inmates who’d wanted to be remembered for their stay.Setting the rock he was working on down, he slowly rose to his feet, approaching the wall like his footfalls would wake everyone in the immediate vicinity.When he was close enough, he passed his hand over the name ‘Jerome’ carved into the cement.He wondered for a moment what kind of man Jerome was, what he’d wanted to be instead of in prison…with a sigh, he lifted his rock hammer to the surface.He’d made the first point of ‘M’ when a piece of cement fell to his feet and rolled a few inches.  

That, to use an overheard phrase, was the tip of the iceberg.Miles had liked geography in high school.It was so logical; everything had a purpose and a reason to move when it did.Really, all it was was the study of pressure and time, and in prison, that’s all it took.

Well, that, and a giant poster.  

After that night, Miles’ next favorite hobby was to tote this wall out to the yard.He would crumble it in his hands as much as possible first and then shove it in his right pocket, which conveniently had a hole the size of his hand.He would shuffle through the yard shaking out his pant leg, watching as the gray pieces mingled with the geologically-sound rocks of Maine.Every day after that, when someone would pick up a part of his cell, his heart would jump into his throat.He lived in constant fear that someone would recognize him and find out his plans.Luckily for him, it never happened.He wasn’t sure if he’d ever really go through with his plan until after Clay died.  

After that, he’d had just about enough of warden von Karma.

* * *

 

“I want these files done in two minutes, it’s time to go home,” von Karma snapped his fingers at the desk right outside his office.Miles jumped in surprise, startled by his peaceful cadence coming to an end.He kept the pen pointed at paper though, and only glanced up at the warden.

“I’m almost done,” he replied, watching von Karma nod and disappear back into his office.Miles stood quickly, reaching under his sweater, where a duplicate of all of his documents was hidden in the back ofhis waistband.He swapped the real documents back under his sweater, taking the fakes in his hand and into von Karma’s office.His heart was pounding mercilessly against his ribcage as he set the pile inside the safe.It was a stroke of incredible luck that von Karma didn’t check the stack before shutting the safe tightly.Miles stepped away, striding back into his space and sliding von Karma’s outside shoes out from underneath his desk and to where the man would sit.Miles turned his back to the entrance, straightening a few papers on the oak desk while von Karma changed into his everyday attire.The man swapped out a casual business blazer for his more eccentric jacket, buttoning it up over a neat-pressed collared shirt.von Karma hung up his blazer over a change of dress clothes on the coat rack before pointing back at the shoebox.  

“It’s an important day tomorrow, I want those looking like mirrors,” he raised an eyebrow as Miles took his usual seat and pulled out a shoe shining kit.

“Absolutely,” Miles mumbled.

“Oh, and take my suit down to laundry for dry-cleaning.”

“Yes, sir,” he didn’t bother to look up; he could feel von Karma’s smirk from where he sat.  

“It’s good to have you back, Edgeworth.Things can start running perfectly again.” von Karma turned and left at that.Miles watched him, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat.Instead of spitting, like he wanted to so badly, he turned to the task at hand.He did exactly as he was ordered to.When he was done, he could see his dim reflection in the black leather.He took a deep breath and slipped off his own shoes.Hopefully no one would bother to notice that his battered brown boots were missing.

His heart hammered all the way back to his cell, and when he sat on his cot, it was everything he could do not to start shaking.Luckily no one had noticed his change of shoes; not even Wright, who had paid the most attention to him.Miles hoped that the man wouldn’t beat himself up too badly over what he was about to do.Pulling the rope he’d received from Larry out of his sweater, he held onto it with white knuckles, as if it would ground him.  

 _“All right, light’s out!_ ” the guard on duty called, and the subsequent clicking of lights turning off was nothing more than a comfort.He made sure to wait a beat before standing, tossing his sweater on his cot and pulling his striped shirt over his head.Underneath was von Karma’s plain suit, of which he shed as well.Folding it neatly on his bed, he pulled the prison uniform over his head again and shucked his pants to the floor, doing the same with von Karma’s matching slacks.He slipped the shoes from his feet, placing them next to the suit.Miles took a deep breath to steady himself.He gingerly removed the bottom flaps of the Pink Princess poster and stared at his handiwork in front of him.He could see through to the other side, to the pipes stretching through the old structure.A flashing light pulled him out of his thoughts and he turned, the sound of rain and thunder pushing him on.  

He moved even quicker after that.His hands flew as he gathered everything he was taking: the folded suit, his chess pieces, a bar of soap, his glasses, and his precious rock hammer, which was almost whittled down to the nub.Placing the first four items in a plastic casing, he tied one end of the rope around the sack and the other around his ankle.He grabbed the last item he had ever asked from Wright and clicked it on.It was a small flashlight that he had asked for a few weeks before Clay was killed.It wasn’t the strongest beam of light in the world, but it would to its job.He lifted the Pink Princess poster again, and this time, crawled into the tunnel.He was eternally grateful for the thunderstorm covering up any suspicious sounds that he was making.The crawl space was small, just big enough for him to drag himself through with the guide of his flashlight.Had he made it any bigger, not only would the poster have not covered it all, but it would have taken him longer.Once he reached the end, he held the flashlight between his teeth and looked up and down.His hands barely reached the pipes leading downward, but he propelled himself forward just enough to get his fingers around one of the rungs.  

As soon as his feet touched the ground he was straddling his pipe outside, taking a larger rock that he had tossed down months ago in hand and holding it over his head.He turned his face back up, watching as lightning lit up the sky.The storm must have been close, because thunder roared merely seconds later.Miles brought the rock down on the old piping in the thunder’s wake.It echoed throughout the tunnel, but luckily for him, the next lightning and thunder strike wasn’t far off.The pipe finally gave after two more strikes.  

Miles was grateful that he’d turned his head away just in time for the sewage pipe to explode, a gusher of excrement and urine stifling his nose and gag reflex.He waited until the spray died down before he opened his eyes again.His stomach churned even more as he looked down at his path to freedom.In that moment, he seriously considered going back, but three names edged him on.  

_Father._

_Lang._

_Clay._

Steeling himself, Miles crawled into the sewage pipe and into a shallow river of shit and piss.Like he had with his own small tunnel, Miles pulled himself forward with his arms.For the first few pulls, he’d tried breathing through his mouth, but when he came entirely too close to ingesting what he was crawling through, he resorted to his nose once again.From his estimations, the pipe was five hundred yards long.It was five hundred yards of foulness, and he vomitted more times than he ever thought he could (to the point where he was simply retching, there was nothing in his stomach after the fifth time).For a while, he thought that there would never be an end to his crawl; that he would just keep going in circles until he reached his point of entry again.After stopping to try and vomit again, the vision of his father smiling at him right before stepping into that damned elevator came to his mind.  

_Father.Lang.Clay._

With newfound determination, he pulled himself farther, repeating the list like a mantra.He was just about to let out a frustrated roar when suddenly the pipe was gone from under him and he was falling—there was water, coming from both below and above, he couldn’t breathe, he kicked his arms and legs, dragging the plastic tied to his ankle.Up, he had to go up, he had to—

His face broke the surface and Miles took in a lungful of fresh air.The water falling on his face was still from the thunderstorm, and the water underneath him reeked of sewage, but the rain felt like new skin to the man.He propelled himself forward still, away from the drainage and farther away from where he came.As soon as he felt the ground beneath his feet, he was upright, letting the rain hit his face even more.His uniform clung to his body, as if to try and bring him back to the prison.He reached behind his head and pulled the filthy garment over his head and tossed it aside.  

The rain beating down on his bare skin was cold, but he opened his arms to welcome it anyway.He let it wash over him, as if it could wash away the tiredness, the loss, and the sorrow of the past years.Lightning and thunder continued to rage above him, making the downpour heavier.It was as if the world was welcoming him into a new life.After a moment, he finally relaxed into a disbelieving smile, which gave way to laughter.  

For the first time in twelve years, Miles Edgeworth felt clean.He’d only had to crawl through five hundred yards of shit to make it so.

* * *

 

Around the same time that the Pink Princess was telling her secret, a man that no one had ever laid eyes on was walking into the Maine National Bank.It was his third stop that day, and he held in his hand a brand-new briefcase.His shoes shone in the fluorescent lights and clicked when he walked.His suit wasn’t much to scoff at, a plain gray blazer over matching slacks and a white button-up.His tie was tied in a perfect knot at his throat, and he carried himself with confidence.On his nose sat a pair of glasses, perfectly polished to show dark irises.His driver’s license, birth certificate, and high school diploma all read ‘Robert Fullbright,’ and his signature was a spot-on match. 

“Well, Mr. Fullbright, we will miss your patronage,” the banker sighed as he looked over the information in front of him.Robert Fullbright had been one of his most important clients, and to see that much of a lump sum go out of his safes was distressing enough to make him rethink his next couple years of business. “We hope that you’ll enjoy your time abroad.”

“Thank you,” Bobby Fullbright responded, sitting opposite the ornate desk with one leg crossed over the other.He held in his lap a large manilla envelope held together with two pieces of twine in addition to the adhesive on its flaps. “I’m sure I will.” 

“Here is your money, Mister Fullbright,” the petite assistant who had first greeted him (Regina, her name plate had read), handing a full Maine National Bank envelope over the desk.Bobby took it in one hand and uncrossed his legs, lifting himself to his feet.The banker did the same, reaching across the space for a handshake. “Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“Would you add this to your outgoing mail?” the man asked, holding out the manilla envelope for her.She nodded with a smile and hurried away, the heels on her feet wobbling with each step.Bobby returned his attention to the man behind the desk and he shook his hand.  

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mister Johns,” he smiled.Turning on his heel, Miles Edgeworth exited the bank with head held high and briefcase full of over $500,000 of warden von Karma’s money.

One day later, reporter Lotta Heart was in the middle of weeding through her mountains upon mountains of incoming mail.It was her least favorite task.Seemingly everyone in the state of Maine wanted to be a reporter these days, and she’d had to fight tooth and nail for a desk job.She’d taken care of all her little envelopes first; some letters to the editor, some reports on a few different stories, the usual.Now, sitting in front of her, was an overstuffed envelope held together with two flimsy pieces of twine and stamped with express stamps.She’d seen five-year-olds tie better knots than the ones holding it together, too.She glared at it for a moment, as if giving it the stink eye would make it disappear.She had a bad feeling about this, like it was going to be a bigger scoop than she’d ever find on her own.  

“Come on, Lotta, you have to open it,” she muttered to herself, finally pulling off the twine and ripping open the adhesive.

At that moment, Lotta Heart decided that she should trust her instincts more often. The newspaper printed the story on the cover.Lotta had scrambled for a picture of Shawshank prison whilst her fingers ran rabid over her typewriter.It was the fastest article she’d ever thrown together, but it was one of the best scoops she’d ever find.She’d fought with herself over five different headlines, but the one she’d decided on had come five minutes before her deadline.

It was also the one that rendered von Karma speechless.It had been three days without so much as a word about Miles Edgeworth’s whereabouts, and when he slammed the paper on his desk, the words ‘ _MURDER, CORRUPTION AT SHAWSHANK PRISON_ ’ stared back at him.He curled his fists at his sides, blood boiling in his veins.Outside, he could hear police sirens growing closer and closer.He barely had time to skim over the details before he was taking down Franziska’s cross stitch and opening the safe.As soon as it was open, he pulled out the files Edgeworth had placed there three days ago.He froze when he saw the accounts book.Instead of the black book he was used to, he was staring at the copy of ‘COMMON LAW’ issued out to all new inmates.He flipped open the cover, and inside was written in Miles Edgeworth’s neat cursive: 

“ _You’re right, warden.Freedom_ _is_ _found within the law._ ” 

Hands shaking, von Karma turned to the middle of the book, where the perfect outline of a rock hammer was carved into the pages.He had been so busy with his safe that he hadn’t heard the sirens stop in the distance.When he was back in his own mind, it was running in overdrive.He dropped the textbook at his feet and ambled back toward his desk, despite the ever-growing-louder sounders of footsteps.Before he made it back to his seat, there was a loud banging on his door.

“Manfred von Karma, you are under arrest for the murder of Clay Terran.Open the door.” 

Suddenly, he was glad he’d locked the door that morning.  

“von Karma!Open the door!” the voice came from the other side of the door.The older man snarled in the entrance’s general direction, his hands busy working at his desk drawer.He’d kept a pistol in his upper drawer for a good reason, he firgured.It was time to bring that reason into fruition.Loading the gun, von Karma could hear the police officers on the other side of the door yelling. ‘ _Break it down_ ,’ was the last thing he heard before the crashing of glass and splinters of wood.He raised the pistol at the last minute, ready to shoot, when there was a searing pain running up his arm.The gun dropped out of his hands and bounced on the floor.von Karma looked up at the police officer who had shot him, a measly figure who seemed to be shaking too hard to land a hit that accurately. 

“Manfred von Karma, you are under arrest for murder, extortion, and bribery,” the man who had first knocked was saying. The older man turned away from the officers, as if still looking for an escape, but none came.A strong pair of hands grabbed both his arms and a pair of handcuffs were slapped onto his wrists. He scoffed and tried pulling away, but the appearance of another officer’s restraining hands kept him in place.

“ ** _EDGEWORTH!_** ” He bellowed, any other options to him fading out of his sight. “ ** _EDGEWOORTH!You and your father cursed me!Death, DEATH to you both!_** ”he continued to yell and protest as he was taken outside.The boy who had shot him watched with a blank expression, as if he was still unbelieving that the past few minutes had been a fantastic dream.

“You did well, Meekins,” his superior officer pulled him out of his daydream with a hand on the shoulder. “That man is going to be locked up for a long time.”

* * *

The story of von Karma’s arrest circulated in national news headlines, and kept the prison lighthearted for months.  At first, everyone had been terrified that von Karma would wind up in some cell next to them, but when he was convicted to a national penitentiary, there was a collective sigh of relief.  Phoenix would often find his friends retelling their story with their own twists added to it.  Larry, for example, would always add that Gant had started crying like a baby when they carted him away.  Diego was convinced that the officer who had shot von Karma actually shot him in the shoulder instead of the hand.   Whenever Gumshoe told the story, he exaggerated how many police officers and detectives were on the scene, and added a police dog.  It was always interesting whenever they would sit around the mess hall table and share stories.  The ones told about the warden were usually at his expense, while the ones told about Miles…well, those always brought back fond memories for Phoenix.  He hardly ever retold any of the stories himself, opting instead to listen to one of the boys give their accounts.  There was always an aching feeling when he turned as if to laugh with Edgeworth…but then he remembered that sometimes, some people weren’t meant to live in a cage.  He figured it was for the best, that Miles was doing all right by himself…he supposed he just missed his friend.

The buzzing in his lips whenever he remembered him and the way his heart flipped didn’t help, either.  

A few weeks after von Karma’s arrest and Miles’ escape, a postcard came for him.It had no return address, but the postmark was from Fort Hancock, Texas.Sitting himself down in the library (which was now completely run by Simon, whom Taka refused to leave, Phoenix pulled out a map of Texas.Fort Hancock was right on the border. _Must be where he crossed,_ Phoenix figured, letting himself smile at the yellowed pages. When he imagined Miles driving to the Pacific in his own car with the wind blowing in his hair, he couldn’t help but feel weightless.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've got about two more chapters until the end, so don't worry, we will get more narumitsu feelings in there. Not gonna lie, this chapter kind of kicked my butt and I didn't want to write it, and I'm not completely happy with it, but let me know what you think!


	14. Phoenix Wright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The outside world isn't as welcoming as Phoenix remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand here come the slight changes that I was talking about earlier. They're not huge, just a few things here and there that I wish would have happened in the original story. Thanks again for reading, for kudos-ing, commenting, and really just being you. Keep in mind that this is the second to last chapter, and I am currently working on a plot for another Ace Attorney fic. That being said, here comes chapter 14!

By the third time Phoenix Wright was marched to the parole office, he was completely disenchanted with the entire process.It had been months since Miles had escaped, and the hype had died down considerably, but the ache that still kept him up some nights had yet to disappear.He had been spending most of his nights lying awake with his sketchbook, as if there was a certain amount of times he could re-imagine the entire gang’s facial features before he was tired enough and his days simply listening to his friends’ banter.He’d almost withdrawn into himself, hardly mentioning anything without first being asked.Now, as he sat in front of three well-dressed folks in the parole hearing room, he crossed his arms over his chest.  

“It says here that you’ve served fifteen years of a life sentence, Phoenix Wright.Is that true?” The one in the middle broke the silence first, and when Phoenix looked up and nodded, he simply kept talking. “And do you feel you have been rehabilitated?”

“Rehabilitated?Let me think,” Phoenix rubbed his chin, his hand passing over the stubble with a quiet ‘scritch.’ “I don’t think I know the meaning of that word.”

The table in front of him paused, unsure as to whether or not he was telling the truth.Clearing his throat, the man in the middle set his pen down and folded his hands in front of himself. “It means that you’re no long a danger to soci-,”

“I know what it means,” the 34-year-old man snapped, his arms crossed over themselves once again. “Or, at least, what you think it means.To me, it’s just a made up word that gives you a nice suit to wear to a nice job so you can provide for your nice family.Am I right?” He waited a beat.He was being mean, he knew. “What you really want to know is if I’m truly sorry for what I did.Well, I’ll tell you this:there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t feel regret.All I want to do is go back fifteen years and talk to that boy.Tell him how life really is, and that the murder of someone else isn’t worth losing your own life behind bars.But most of all, I would be _there_ for him.” Clay’s face popped into the periphery of his mind and he squashed it down. “So while you sit there and scribble down whether or not you think I’m a danger to society, just know that I _don’t give a damn_ anymore.” 

The silence that followed Phoenix’s rant was heavy.He was met with three blank stares, and instead of watch them reject his appeal again, he turned his head away.The slam-click of the stamp on paper almost echoed in the room, and Phoenix waited for someone to escort him back out into the yard.  

“I can’t believe this,” Apollo’s voice was small. “You actually got out before I did.”

“Yeah, well,” Phoenix shrugged. “I’m sorry, Apollo.”

“No, I’m happy for you,” the brunette shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m just gonna miss you is all.”

“Well, you’re going to try to adopt Clay’s daughter, aren’t you?” the older man turned and placed his hands on his hips. “You’re gonna have your hands full with her.”

“Tell me about it,” Apollo laughed.It was a great thing to hear after everything that had happened in the past year, and Phoenix couldn’t help but smile. “After what she’s been through, I just hope I can be there for her.Clay told me that her mother ran out on them right before he tried stealing that radio.But I suppose, any offspring of Clay’s is going to be…eccentric.”

“Like father, like daughter,” Phoenix laughed as well, clapping his hand on Apollo’s shoulder. “You’re gonna do great.”

“I hope so,” Apollo nodded. “Don’t get too crazy out there, now.”

“Oh, you know me too well,” Phoenix smiled right as the guard waiting for him cleared his throat behind them.Phoenix turned and shouldered his small bag that carried any belongings that carried his personal effects. “Take care of yourself, Apollo.Send me a wire if you ever get out of here.” 

“Sure thing, Nick,” the short man raised his hand in a silent wave.Returning the gesture, Phoenix finally turned and allowed himself to be escorted outside the prison gates.He was dressed in a nicely-pressed white shirt and handed a tweed jacket at the entryway, which he slung over his shoulder.Looking back at the old prison, Phoenix let out a long sigh.So much had happened within the walls; he’d matured from an eighteen-year-old idiot, he’d made himself a family…and, he begrudgingly added, he’d fallen in love. _As much as I hate to say it_ , he thought, tipping the newsboy hat on top of his head, _thank you, you godforsaken hellhole._

 

* * *

 

Phoenix’s new apartment was in the bottom half of an elderly woman’s house, and he had no one to thank but the parole boys for getting him a job, bank account, and the place where he hung his jacket.  It wasn’t the smallest place he’d ever stayed, but it sure was bigger than he was used to.  There was a small entryway giving into a kitchenette with a small dinner table scooted into the middle of the room.  A half-wall with a break in the middle separated the living space from what he assumed was his sleeping space; it was a queen-sized bed pushed against the wall with a full wardrobe standing against the wall across from it.  Everything would have looked perfect, if Phoenix wasn’t already staring at the half-wall.  There was a railing hanging down from the ceiling, with a small partition above it.  It was to make the apartment more welcoming or something, he figured, but his eyes were stuck on the partition itself.  In the sheet rock, carved haphazardly with what Phoenix figured must have been a pocket knife, was carved THE JUDGE WAS HERE.  At first, Phoenix had recoiled like he’d been slapped.  He stared at the carving for a good minute, feeling the prickles in his nose that always signaled that he was about to start crying.  

“Everything look okay?” his landlady asked behind him, and Phoenix jumped back into the real time. 

“Yeah, it’s great,” he forced a smile to his face. “Thanks.”

“You start at the Foodway tomorrow,” she informed him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t be late, or I’ll have to explain that to your boss.”

“Thanks,” Phoenix repeated as he looked back up at the carving in the wall.He was vaguely aware of the door shutting behind the older woman as she walked away, but he really couldn’t bring himself to turn around. When he moved again, it was a sort of reverence for the space around him.If this had been the last place the Judge had lived…

Phoenix let out a long sigh.Maybe being on the outside was going to be harder than he thought.

Working at the Foodway wasn’t so awful, he decided.Sure, his boss got angry every time that he asked to go to the bathroom, and sometimes the customers were too angry to even listen to what he was saying, but it wasn’t the worst work he’d ever done.Every once in a while he would get a reassuring smile, but mostly, it was a monotonous job that he didn’t particularly care for.No one really _needed_ him like they did on the inside.Usually, Phoenix returned back to his home around seven at night and listened to the radio until he fell asleep.Then, in the morning, he would get up and repeat the process.There was nothing that really made him _laugh_ like he had on the inside.Whenever he tried to introduce himself to anyone, they would give him a look like he was crazy and move on.  

Then there were the nightmares.  

When Phoenix had first read the Judge’s letter, the nightmares were what had confused him the most.Now that he was on the outside, he thought, they were his entire life.The Judge had said that he’d had dreams of falling, of being caught up in an endless vortex of busy passer-by’s, cars, and countless other changes they had made when he was on the inside.Phoenix usually found himself waking up in the small hours of the morning breathing heavily and in a cold sweat, trying to shake off the feeling of spiraling into darkness.Sometimes he would see Clay’s face, other times, Apollo’s, and sometimes, he would be jerked awake by the thought of Miles alone, in danger, or (and these were the worst dreams he’d ever had) dead.  

Now, months after he’d been released, he sat in his too-large bed, in his too-comfortable clothes, in his too-large room after a particularly awful nightmare, dragging his hands through his hair.It was still dark outside, but he had the day off, so he passed a hand over his face again and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.He was trying to press the image of von Karma standing over a lifeless Edgeworth from his mind, with little progress.He watched out the window right above his dresser across the room as a pair of cats started hissing at each other, claws out and teeth bared, and tried to shake the heebie-jeebies that were emanating from the half-wall.He didn’t have to know what exactly had happened a few years ago to know that this was the last place the Judge had slept.Wrapping his arms around himself, Phoenix settled back under his covers.There was no way he could keep going like this.Sleeping only a few hours was one thing he could do, however, the ever-present fear that he would spend the rest of his life in constant fear of what was around the corner was something else entirely.That, and the fact that he could not remember the last time he genuinely laughed to save his life.  

Phoenix sat up with a jolt, throwing his covers off his legs and swinging his lower body out of bed.He paced in the aisle at the foot of his bed for a few moments in his nightclothes, hand rubbing at his chin and eyes shut.Most times he did it to try and shake off a bad dream or day.He had the area memorized, and after three steps, he turned on his heel and paced the other way.He replayed the last few conversations he’d had with Miles and his lips buzzed the more and more he thought, as if they would leave their place on his face.As he walked, he slowly regulated his breathing, and when he could easily breathe in and out, he came to a halt.He was staring at the partition, where on the other side, ‘THE JUDGE WAS HERE’ was still carved into the wood.Staring at it for a longer moment, Phoenix sunk his teeth into his lower lip.  

 _Get busy living, or get busy dying,_ he thought to himself as he dug in his wardrobe for some acceptable clothes.

 

* * *

 

The ride up to Buxton was hardly more than boring.  After his restless night, he’d bummed a ride in the back of a stranger’s pickup truck to the edge of the town and continued from there on foot.  It was a blisteringly hot day, and as he walked, he could feel the sweat pooling on his forehead. _Maybe I should have worn something a little less…formal,_ Phoenix figured, but he continued on in his dress slacks and white shirt, pulling the tie he’d worn over his head and slinging it over his arm with the suit jacket. _Oh well.  At least if I get in trouble I’ll look decent doing it,_ he sighed, looking out at the town of Buxton.  Like he’d told Miles on the inside, there were too many fields for him to find _the one_ , but he would do his damn best to try.  Even if he had to sleep in one overnight.  

Squaring his shoulders, Phoenix moved forward with purpose.

It only took him half an hour to find it.He took a main road through a few, looking earnestly for this ‘brick wall’ that Miles had spoken of.He was on his way through the third farming road when he noticed a large tree peeking over the horizon.The energy that had seemingly escaped from Phoenix’s body was suddenly returned, and he moved forward with more purpose.He followed along the small wall, which only reached up to his knee ( _This is more like a rock speed bump, Miles, you had me expecting an actual_ wall _wall,)_ through the hayfield, sometimes using it to support himself.Sure, he’d been one of the more active inmates in Shawshank, but that didn’t mean that he was ready to navigate any terrain at any time of the day.He kept his eyes on the oak tree perched atop one of the field’s bigger hills, remembering what it was like to sit close to Miles Edgeworth, and wondering, for a moment, what it would be like to share the space under the leaves.He kept going with a fire in his gut, as if that alone would bring him to his friend.

The oak was just as he had imagined it; it was early fall, so the leaves falling from the branches splayed out like a soft blanket, and the field around it was tinted a reddish-yellow in the early afternoon air.Phoenix took a moment to catch his breath.Not only because the scenery around him beautiful, but also for the fact that he had walked more in the morning he’d been out and about than he had since he’d been out of prison.He was about to take a seat to better catch his breath when his eyes landed on the base of the wall right in front of him.There, nestled in between the grass and its surrounding bricks, was indeed a rock that had no geological purpose in being there.It looked as though it should have been made of dark glass, fogged up and nestled between some blades of grass like it had been tucked in with a bedtime story.  

 _Found you,_ Phoenix thought with a grin, lifting the obsidian.He ran his hands over it a few times, brushing off the dirt that had accumulated in the months since it had been laying outside. It was beautiful, that he couldn’t deny, and he would have taken a few more minutes to stare at it had his original purpose not come back to the forefront of his mind.He set the rock aside and returned to the wall, pushing aside a few more bigger rocks and passing his hands over the dirt underneath.He was just about to sit back and curse Edgeworth for picking one of the stupidest places to hide a surprise when the dirt he was clearing away revealed a tin box.On the front of it was a painted miniature of the _Titanic_.Its sides were beginning to rust, but Phoenix cleared away the sides and pulled out the tin anyway, brushing off the dust.He held it as though it would disappear at any moment.Breaking out of his reverie, he turned and leaned his back against the wall and took another sweep around him, just to make sure that no one was watching him.As soon as the coast was clear, he popped open the tin.  

Inside were two letters held together by a plastic bag.The ends of them were folded a bit so that they would fit inside, but other than that, Miles’ loopy writing of ‘ _Phoenix Wright_ ’ was all that was written on the blank sides.Phoenix raised his head to make sure again that no one was looking before he slid them out of the plastic casing and flipped open the first letter.Inside, Phoenix recognized the tops of dollar bills.Raising his eyebrow, he reached inside and pulled a few out, only to almost drop the envelope entirely.Staring back at him was Ulysses S. Grant, and the number ’50’.Behind the first were at least fifteen more, and Phoenix balked.  

“Holy shit,” he breathed and placed the envelope back in the tin, still staring at the former president in shock.He was almost scared to open the second, as if another present from Miles Edgeworth would pop out and scare him half to death.As he turned to the second one, however, he noted that instead of ‘ _Phoenix Wright_ ’ written on the front, it was just his first name.The only time he had heard Miles call him by his first name was right after they had kissed.An electric shock ran through his blood as he opened it to see a letter enclosed.He only had to glance at it to see that it too had Miles’ handwriting covering one side of the page.He sobered a little, and despite the shaking in his hands, he started reading.

 

_‘ ~~Dear~~ Phoenix,_

 

 _If you are reading this, your parole has been approved.Congratulations.And if you have come this far, maybe you are willing to come a little further.Hopefully, you remember the name of the town I told you about._ (“Zihuatanejo,” Phoenix murmured to no one in particular) _I could use a good man to help me get my project on wheels.I will keep an eye out for you, and the chess board ready, if you would be so willing to learn.Remember, Phoenix: hope is a good thing; maybe the best of things.And no good thing ever dies.I hope that this letter finds you, and finds you well._

_~~Sincerely,~~ _

~~_Yours,_ ~~

~~_With love,_~~  

_Forever yours,_

_Miles Edgeworth’_

 

It was a messy signature, but Phoenix had seen it so often that he recognized it right off the bat.He folded it after reading the words two more times, and took a steadying breath.He looked back at the envelope full of money and the tin.It would be easy to sneak that back into his apartment.Before he stood to make the trek back to his apartment, Phoenix pressed the letter to his lips. _I’ll be there soon, Miles_ , he promised. _There’s just a few things I’ve got to do, yet._

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t long after Phoenix found Miles’ letter that he received a wire from Apollo, who had been released from prison a few weeks after him.  At first, Phoenix had considered ignoring it, but when the end of the message was signed ‘come meet us,’ he figured Klavier had also been released.  On the day Apollo had specified, Phoenix packed a lone suitcase and stood on top of his dinner table.  In his hand, he held a pocket knife which he pulled away from the wall.  He stepped down and swung the suit coat over his shoulders.  The money Miles had left him had stretched a long way, and Phoenix had bought himself an actual suit.  Of course, it wasn’t the most conventional suit there was.  It was blue, and the red tie tied around his neck contrasted it nicely.  He buttoned the two buttons on its front and straightened his sleeves, looking up at his carving.  Under where it read ’THE JUDGE WAS HERE’, it know stated ‘SO WAS NICK’. With a smile, Phoenix turned on his heel, picked up his luggage, and exited his apartment for the last time.  

Apollo had suggested meeting at the park downtown, and Phoenix beat him there by ten minutes.He had brought a few pieces of bread and tossed some of the crumbs at the birds hopping around the sidewalk.For a moment he imagined the Judge doing the same, and stopped mid-toss.He wondered if there would be a time when he didn’t feel a twang of sadness whenever he thought of the old man.  

Halfway through his pity party, a familiar voice broke into his thoughts.  

“Nick!” Apollo called, still about twenty feet away.Phoenix raised his head and saw the familiar boy approaching him in a nice red vest and pants, one hand raised in a wave.A smile paused on Phoenix’s face when he looked to his other hand to see a small child attached.She wore a pink dress, and her dark hair was tied into lower pigtails behind her ears.As they drew closer, Phoenix recognized the blue eyes, and the smile returned in full capacity.Rising to his feet, the older man tossed the rest of his breadcrumbs to the birds and met the younger halfway. “Or, should I say, Mister Wright.I didn’t think you could actually clean up.” 

“Ha, ha,” Phoenix deadpanned, holding out his hand.Apollo took it and shook it firmly. “Then I suppose I should call _you_ Mister Justice.”

“Anything is fine,” he smiled. “Everything is so…bright out here, isn’t it?”

“It sure is,” Phoenix returned the smile and shoved his free hand into his pocket. “When you said ‘us’, I figured that Klavier had gotten his parole approved-,”

“Polly!” The girl at Apollo’s side whined, and Phoenix looked down to see the girl pulling on Apollo’s hand with both of her small ones.The brunette crouched down to her height and gave her his ear, which she cupped her hands around and whispered into, her blue eyes skipping up to Phoenix every so often.After a moment, Apollo smiled and scooped her up into his arms, resting her on his hip, despite her protests.

“Who is this?” Phoenix asked, nodding to her, and Apollo turned to the child.

“This is Trucy,” Apollo explained, his eyes never leaving the side of her face.Trucy watched Phoenix with a wary eye. “I had a few people in high places help me adopt her.”

“I recognize her eyes,” Phoenix told Apollo, “is she…?”

“Clay’s daughter?” Apollo smiled. “Yeah.Yeah, she is.”

“Oh my god,” Phoenix laughed. “How did an ex-con even get custody of such a sweetie pie?”

“Well, you see,” Apollo scratched the top of his head. “She’d been staying with a friend of Clay’s, and it turns out he works for the Child Protection Service, so he pulled a few strings after I introduced myself to him.”

“That’s fantastic,” Phoenix breathed.

“ _Daddy,_ ” the girl whined again. “Who’s that?”

“Oh, right,” Apollo smiled. “Truce, this is my friend, Nick.Nick, this is Trucy Terran-Justice.”

“Hyphenated and everything,” Phoenix remarked.

“It’s not so popular, but I want her to remember her dad,” Apollo explained. “And as soon as Klav gets out, maybe she’ll want to change it.”

“Klavier, huh?” Phoenix wiggled his eyebrows until Apollo gave him a playful shove.

“Like you should talk,” Apollo muttered under his breath. “Have you heard anything from him yet?” 

“About that…” the older man looked down at his suitcase.Brown eyes followed, and Apollo’s mouth opened in a silent ‘oh’.  

“I see,” Apollo nodded and let out a long sigh. “I guess this is goodbye, then?” With a shrug, Phoenix nodded and pursed his lips.He watched as Apollo sighed and set down Trucy, who only whined a little before she watched as her adoptive father surged forward and wrapped his arms around Phoenix’s middle.Taken aback, Phoenix took a moment before he returned the hug.They stayed like that for a moment, but when Apollo pulled away, he was pulling out an address book from his back pocket. “I figured it would be, and I just wanted to say thanks for everything, Nick.” He smiled up at Phoenix, though his eyes were a bit watery. 

“Absolutely,” Phoenix nodded.He followed Apollo’s hands as he pulled out a pen to scribble something onto one of the pieces of paper.

“This is Clay’s friend’s address,” Apollo explained, tearing out the paper. “I know that anonymity might be a big issue for you guys…but…if you ever want to write, you could send stuff there.” He held out the piece of paper, which Phoenix took and stuffed in his inner suit pocket.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Phoenix looked back down at Trucy. “She’s quite the trooper.”

“Oh, I know.Sometimes I feel like she takes care of me more than I take care of her.”

Laughing, Phoenix crouched down and held out his hand. “It was great to meet you, Ms. Trucy.” Still a little wary, Trucy slowly took the larger hand in hers and shook it firmly.  

“You too, Nick,” She smiled, and Phoenix stretched back to his full height.The air was hushed around them.

“You know, if you didn’t love him so much, I’d ask you to stay,” Apollo stated, and Phoenix’s head shot up. “Please, it’s not like you two _hid_ anything by putting on the ‘only friends’ crap when we were in prison.”

“Yeah, well,” Phoenix sighed. “I was hoping it wasn’t _so_ obvious.”

“Better luck next time,” Apollo grinned. “But you have places to go, Trucy just wanted to feed the birds.”

“Well, I won’t keep her waiting then,” Phoenix clapped the younger man on the shoulder. “I’m about to go commit a crime for the second time in my life.” Apollo gave him a quizzical look and Phoenix winked. “Parole violation.Take care of yourself, Apollo.”

“You too, Nick,” the younger man nodded, and watched as his friend picked up his suitcase, turn, and stride out of the park.With a sigh, Apollo turned back to his daughter, scooping her up to play airplane.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't leave my babies to fend for themselves, and let me tell you, having Trucy call Apollo 'daddy' was weird. I just love Apollo too much to leave him in Shawshank, and he deserves a happy ending, too. I hope you didn't mind the change, but let me know what you think!


	15. The Pacific Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pacific is just as blue and wide as in Phoenix's dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. This is officially the first thing that I have written that has exceeded 50,000 words, or that I have finished. I'm quite proud of myself, and I'm overall happy with how this turned out. Once again, thank you so much for everything, I have loved any and all feedback that you have to offer.  
> That being said, I'm working on another narumitsu fic, this one with an original plot. It'll get actually underway in a few weeks, and I'm also working on a comic strip with one of my best friends (college? What is that? Assignments? Papers? What?).  
> Again, thank you, thank you, thank you. You all are beautiful and gave me the drive I needed to finish this.  
> Props to @AifasInTheSky for the Spanish,

It took Phoenix thirty-six hours of riding a bus to get to Fort Hancock, Texas.Thirty-six hours of being crammed in between strangers on the bus, getting up every once in a while to stretch, and only peeing whenever he had to wait for his next transfer bus to come through.His ticket would be punched four times, and it took him four days to reach the border of the United States and Mexico, and when he finally crossed in Fort Hancock and purchased another ticket to Zihuatanejo, he felt as if he could cry at how many other buses he would need to take before he finally reached the Pacific Ocean.He was grateful for Miles’ money, though he felt bad for spending so much on hotel stays and bus tickets.He read the letter Miles had sent him every day when he woke up, and when he went to bed.The blue suit he’d bought was started to get rumpled with how often he was sitting on a bus, and he hoped that Miles wouldn’t notice (he could just _hear_ Miles’ snarky remarks about how well he kept his clothes…).All in all, however, after forty-eight hours of bus rides, seven and a half nights in hotel rooms, bickering in half-English speaking Mexicans, cursing himself for not knowing enough Spanish to get by, and too many street vendor hot dogs, Phoenix Wright set foot on the town line of Zihuatanejo.In any other instance, he would have stopped to stare at the Pacific Ocean for more than a few minutes, but he was tired, cranky, and he was quite tired of living off only a few lines of Miles Edgeworth’s handwriting.There was a black-haired girl at a street vendor who was wearing a purple sundress that pointed him in the right direction after hearing the name ‘Fullbright’, and Phoenix marched to where she had pointed.With a quick ‘ _gracias_ ,’ Phoenix readjusted his suitcase and headed in the direction she had pointed.

Having never seen an ocean before, Phoenix wasn’t quite sure what to do when he came to the sand.He found out quickly that he had to be more careful where he stepped and how he stepped, otherwise he would fall face down.Running wasn’t an option, much to his dismay as soon a boat pulled up onto the shore came into view.For a moment, he stopped, opting then to simply watch the figure on top move from one side of the boat to the other and back again.How long had it been since he had seen him?Five months?Seven?

 _Twelve,_ a voice in the back of his head reminded him. _Twelve months, two weeks, and six days._  

Phoenix shoved the voice to the back of his mind and pressed forward, fighting against the sand with every step he took.As he grew closer, the figure slowly gained more details; he was wearing a button-up cotton shirt that hung slack over his shoulders as he bent over to work his sander ver the old wood.Underneath, a white undershirt clung to his torso, which looked much broader and healthier since the last time Phoenix had seen him.It was to be expected, the last time Phoenix had seen Miles, it had been right after the man had been released from two months in solitary confinement.He had filled out in the year since Phoenix had seen him.The pants that Miles wore had been cut off around his knees, and for the first time, Phoenix noticed that Miles’ legs were a bit more toned than he had first imagined.When he grew close enough to see Miles’ face, his breath caught in his throat and he had to stop.

The entire week Phoenix had spent traveling, he had spent coming up with cheesy one-liners, or something profound to say to Miles.  

Now that he was right in front of the man, it all washed away.Any sort of bitterness he had felt was completely washed clean with relief.He had to take a moment to remember to breathe, watching as the man on the boat felt a pair of eyes on him, and turned his head to the source.  

When grey eyes met blue, it was like everything around them stopped.The air grew heavy with words left unsaid; the Pacific itself might as well have frozen over for how much Phoenix was paying attention to it.His eyes took in Miles’ face, the memory of it having dimmed the brightness in his eyes, rounded off his cheekbones, and distorted what the man looked like when he was _truly at peace_.Phoenix had remembered him as a shell, not quite broken by von Karma’s cruelty, but still not quite whole.To see him as a free man, as his own person…Phoenix opened his mouth as if to say something, but quickly found that anything he wanted to say was choked.Instead, to his slight dismay, tears pooled in the sides on his eyes and he dropped the suit coat and suitcase he’d held in his hands.The man opposite him dropped the sander in his hands and stepped down from where he had been perched on the boat.As they neared each other, Phoenix’s heart swelled up in his chest, almost like it was a balloon.He reached out his arms the closer he grew, and when Miles’ arms brushed past his, it felt like electric sparks coursing through his veins.At first, Phoenix had just wanted to embrace the man, but when he felt coarse fingers on the underside of his jaw, he tilted his face up just in time to see Miles’ grey eyes close.  

Every memory Phoenix had had of their shared kiss in Shawshank was suddenly pushed out of his memory.The feeling of Miles’ lips against his own still felt surreal, and he tightened his grip on the man’s shirt.Miles began to pull away, as if he was about to say something, probably something about Phoenix’s dress, but the brunette followed him with newfound urgency.Later, he would guess that the urgency came from their first kiss, and how Miles had disappeared right after it, but in the moment, Phoenix only knew he needed Miles closer to him.A small sound of surprise came from Miles’s throat, though with the way that he returned Phoenix’s eagerness, Phoenix figured that he wasn’t complaining.  

Miles had read in books over and over about how kisses could stop time.He had brushed it off with the argument that it was just fictional nonsense.There was no evidence suggesting that any sort of gesture could truly ‘stop time’.Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from hoping that something so fantastic did indeed exist.He had spent the last twelve months in Zihuatanejo with his eyes on the horizon, hoping one day that the man whom he held tight now would rise from the sunrise like his namesake.At first, Miles had had to remind himself that no, he wasn’t dreaming, and that Phoenix Wright had braved the long journey to come to him ( _probably over public transportation,_ Miles thought to himself, and made a mental reminder to thank Phoenix immensely for that later).As much as Miles could have stayed kissing Phoenix until the sun went down, he pulled away and opted then to rest his forehead against the other man’s, eyes still closed and reveling in the moment.Phoenix did the same, his hands still twisted in Miles’ over shirt.  

It was incredible, he thought.He had known the man for twelve years, and trying to pinpoint the exact moment that they had fallen in love with each other was like trying to tell the waves crashing at their feet to still themselves.They were like two entities, one of blue and another of red, coming together and instead of turning into a whirlwind of emotion or dryness, they just made something else.On their own, Miles figured, they would do fine, but there was more that could be conquered, be done, be _felt_ by being at Phoenix’s side.Phoenix sniffled in the quietness, and Miles opened his eyes, taking in the man’s presence he had all but ached for in the past year.

“ _I missed you_ ,” Phoenix whispered after a moment, voice thick.The hand that Miles had rested on Phoenix’s neck tightened at that, and his thumb slowly started rubbing back and forth over the pale skin. 

“I missed you, too, Phoenix.” Miles murmured.Had he been anywhere else, he would have scoffed at his sentimentality, but here, in Wright’s arms, he allowed himself to think one of the most cliche lines in history.

In Phoenix Wright’s arms, Miles finally felt whole again. 

 

* * *

 

_One year later_

 

* * *

 

Phoenix was a late sleeper, he would never deny that.  He enjoyed waking up to a midmorning day, not to the early darkness that he had been used to, or that Miles seemed to prefer.  It was something they’d had to work on right after Phoenix’s move to Mexico.  Usually, Miles would have sputtered at the idea of moving in with someone so soon after becoming so _involved,_ but since he had known Phoenix for the better part of his life, he had made an exception.  Phoenix, like Miles had predicted, had been invaluable as his partner in starting up a small hotel on the side of the ocean, not only with finding the materials to build the small hotel itself, but also with people who would help spread the word and get customers coming in and out.  It made for a long week whenever they had guests, but sometimes, like that particular morning, it was quiet, and they were able to sleep past nine o’clock.  Shifting in their bed, Miles rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes.  He was sure not to move the sleeping figure next to him just yet; Phoenix in the morning was quite the nightmare if he was woken up by someone else.  Although he had a long list of things to do, Miles couldn’t bring himself to move from his current position, and settled for planting small kisses in the dark hair under his chin.  Phoenix sighed. 

“ _‘time is it_?” Phoenix muttered, and Miles turned his head to their clock. 

“ _Las nueve y diesiocho,_ ” Miles replied.He was eternally grateful that immersion into a certain language was the fastest way to learn.Phoenix, however, was being quite stubborn about learning Spanish.

“ _Chúpamela_ ,” Phoenix shot back.He had, however, learned how to curse quickly.Miles would have to have a word with Maya later. 

“ _Ya hice eso, anoche,_ ” Miles decided to play along instead of chiding him at the moment, and that got the other man to look up from his pillow and grin. “ _¿Quisieras que lo hago de nuevo?_ ”

“Maybe later,” Phoenix laughed. “Maya will be here soon, and we promised her and Pearls that we’d take them out today.” When Miles didn’t answer, Phoenix looked up and pouted. “Do we have to do Spanish here, too?You promised that I wouldn’t have to talk Spanish at home until I unpacked everything.”

“Fine,” Miles conceded with a sigh. “But let me remind you, that for someone with only one suitcase, you have dragged this out quite a long time.”

“I’ll find a place for my stuff, I promise.”

“Today or never?”

“Probably never,” the brunette finally sat up. 

“ _Bueno, entonces puedes escucharme hablar en español para siempre_ _,_ ” Miles chuckled when he was received with a pillow to the face.  

“I’m going, I’m going,” Phoenix muttered and stood.His suitcase had been pushed to the corner of their room and seemingly forgotten about; the clothes that Phoenix had deemed ‘warm weather’ in Maine were much different than those he wore on a daily basis now.He still kept the suit (about which Miles had _indeed_ argued), mostly because it was a good reminder of his trek to South America, but also because he figured he would need something a bit more formal in the future.All that was really left in the case was a few items from when he was in prison that he’d yet to get rid of.He picked up the smaller suitcase in both hands and stared down at it.Really, it hadn’t been touched since they had bought the house, and he wasn’t looking forward to going through any of it.Miles must have picked up on his hesitant attitude toward the task at hand.

“Bring it over here, we can go through it together,”he offered, and Phoenix turned, walking back to the bed, where Miles had sat up fully now.The brunette gingerly set down the bag and unzipped it, flipping the lid open.There wasn’t much inside, maybe a few books that he’d liked from the library, a couple of news clippings from when von Karma had been arrested, and, tucked in the bottom, far from where Phoenix had remembered that he’d packed it, a ratty old sketchbook.Miles noticed it first, Phoenix opting to leave through the other books he’d snuck out of the prison.  

“I remember this,” Miles breathed, and Phoenix looked up. “This is the sketchbook I gave to you.” Of course, it was a bit worse for wear than when Miles had given it to the man — the pages were obviously leafed through, and the binding was all but gone, replaced with a few shoe strings instead of the nice spine, but it was undoubtedly the book Miles had gifted the man with.  

“Oh, right,” Phoenix said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I’ve been looking for that, actually…”

“Did this go through the wash?”

Phoenix slumped. “Give me a break, I only used it for five years, and after you gave it to me, I wanted to draw for the first time in years, so you can’t blame me for using it every day, I guess I’m sorry that it’s not in the best condition—”

“May I?” Miles cut off his partner.As much as he loved Phoenix, the man did enjoy a few angry rants now and again.Sobered, Phoenix nodded solemnly crossed his legs under himself.He’d forgotten how painful it was whenever someone looked over his drawing.Of course, it had happened countless times in school, but now, when it was Miles, he felt his heart speed up in his chest.

As Miles looked through the pages, he found himself quite speechless.When Phoenix had told him that he was an artist, Miles was expecting art akin to that of a high schooler’s talent.But now, as he paged through sketch upon sketch of the usual gang from his old haunt, he held the book with more reverence.Everyone had been captured in graphite or ink.He passed by Apollo sitting on Klavier’s shoulders, Gumshoe dropping a stack of books in the library, Larry and Diego playing cards, Simon feeding Taka, and Clay hunched over a penmanship book, and many other iterations of their friends.He smiled at those memories that Phoenix had immortalized, and stopped to admire the scenes that he must have made up. Miles was deftly aware of Phoenix’s eyes watching his face for any give in his expression.  

“These are amazing, Phoenix,” Miles gave him a smile. “I can’t believe you drew all of these.”

“Well, when you’ve got the time,” Phoenix shrugged, and rubbed the back of his neck.Miles continued flipping through the pages, until he came across a page littered with the same face, over and over again.The one opposite it looked the same way, and a few peeks to the pages afterward, as well.Furrowing his brows, Miles examined the face, much like staring in a mirror.  

“Wright,” he finally looked up to his partner, who was now looking away.His cheeks were tinted a bright red. “These last pages are all of me.”

“Yeah,” Phoenix muttered, folding his hands in his lap.  

“…would you care to explain?” 

The brunette shrugged, and looked up at him with a sheepish look on his face. “I think the reason that I wanted to draw so badly was because I was inspired again.I guess I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” he finally looked at Miles, who had stopped and was now staring at him.Setting down the sketchbook as if it would disintegrate if it was handled poorly, Miles leaned forward and leaned his cheek on Phoenix’s shoulder.He felt the man pressed his lips to his temple. “I still love you.”

“I love you, too,” Miles set his chin on his shoulder and smiled when Phoenix leaned in to properly kiss him.Phoenix’s hand came up to cup his cheek, holding him there for a long moment.

" _¡Viejos cochinos, más vale que estén presentables! ¡Puedo oler las cosas asquerosas que están sucediendo ahí adentro!_ ” came a familiar voice from the porch, and Phoenix and Miles separated, quite reluctantly.

“That would be Maya,” Phoenix laughed.

“Go get a shirt,” Miles ordered, shooing his partner off the bed. “We’ll finish this talk later,”

“Oh, really?” Phoenix wiggled his eyebrows. “If I go lock the door they can wait—,”

“ _Camisa,_ ” the gray-haired man threw one of the pillows across the room and swung his legs out of bed himself.He could hear Maya berating Phoenix when he went out to the porch.He allowed himself to look back at the sketchbook, and vowed to buy Phoenix a new one. 

There was so much life ahead to be documented.Miles didn’t want to miss any of it.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish translations! I'm not currently in a Spanish class right now, and it's been a few months since I've spoken more than a few phrases, so lemme know if something should change.  
> Las nueve y diesiocho - It's 9:18.  
> Te mierda - Fuck you  
> Yo le hice, anoche, ¿me quieres hacerlo otra vez? - I did that, last night, would you like me to do it again?  
> Pues, puedes escucharme hablar en español por siempre - Well, you can listen to me speak in Spanish for forever  
> ¡Ustedes ancianos asquerosos deben estar decente! ¡Puedo oler cosas bajas que está sucediendo ahí dentro! - You gross old men better be decent! I can smell foul things that are happening in there!
> 
> Once again, thank you so much. I love all of you, all of the comments, kudos, and views have made my entire day so much better, and I appreciate them more than words can say. Have a wonderful day, I will see you again for my next fic!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr:  
> przeuszczski.tumblr.com


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